Evolved
by Tazzybizzy
Summary: The Medford House of Night has been the epicenter for tragedy and mystery, but with a new onslaught of students, the mystery surrounding the vampyre finishing school will quickly unravel. A story where your OC goes to a new House of Night. So enter a OC! AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **

**-looks at title- Yeaaaaah, not the best title I've ever come up with. XD Anyone else think of mentally challenged or physically challenged? I do. XD **

**Anyways, what better day to post this than on the first full moon of the year? XD**

**'lo good people of this fandom! Read the books, like 'em, ff'd it, was shocked. Lots of stories that are just rewrites (not that there is anything wrong with that, I'd love to rewrite some of the HoN books) and this fandom is sho wittle! DX **

**Anyways, this idea was bouncing around, and I'd love to expand on it. So, since I'm a sucker for RPs, this is gonna be one also. XP Not sure how many I want, so I'll just see what I get and decide if I like them. If your character is a Mary-Sue (a perfect in every way person) or just some rip-off of an HoN character, you will be rejected. **

--

A thick fog had settled on the town, saturating everything. The city's occupants had long ago turned off all their lights for a good nights sleep; all except one. The castle-like cluster of buildings stood in all it's glory, a mixture of oil lanterns and modern street lights illuminating the brick building and its pathways. One would think that everything would be dark and quiet, but this place was alive with movement. Students scampered through the crisp mist, their jackets zipped up tight, to get to their classes on time. Anyone foreign to the city would have gawked at such a sight, but those who lived there already knew all about that place. Most avoided it, others would give anything to be inside, but one thing that they all had in common was that they knew what kind of school it was. The plaque on the black iron-wrought fence stated it clearly, in perfect, gold letters, "Medford House of Night."

No one knew why such a school would be built in such a city when there were more famous cities such as Portland or Salem, but it was here and had been for years. There had been many rumors about when the school had first been built, there were many protest and attacks on the school. It was mostly petty vandalism, until one day, a group of people took it too far.

**Flashback- -**

**Portland, Oregon**

Their faces were visible only by the warm flickering light of their torches. Malicious grins or evil smirks adorned each of their faces. They had a mission, and they were determined to finish it. Wicked laughter could be heard from some of the younger members, an evil sound that could make anyone's stomach churned. They marched down the street, the neighborhood residents curiously poking their heads out their doors or peeking through windows. Some sneered cheerfully, knowing full well what the mob was planning on doing, while others gazed on in confusion. Step after step they got closer to their target, the newly built building for those vampyre _freaks. _The same freaks who had taken away daughters and son, ripping families apart. Those children would never be the same again, or they would die. Might as well do them a favor and stop them from having to feel the pain of changing fully, or rejecting the Change.

The group halted, stopping in front of the tall building that looked pitch-black in the night sky. Lanterns and lights revealed the twisting pathways which adorned several students, none of them noticing the flickering lights or semi-automatic guns in their hands. Even from where they stood, the mob of people could clearly see the sapphire outline of a crescent moon on the teenagers' foreheads.

Few of the mob members felt their insides convulse as they saw the teenagers act just like any other teenager in the world, reminding them of their children back home. One man, a short, mousy man, trembled in his spot as he saw one of the teenagers run away from a boy, giggling the entire time.

"Annabel," he whispered in a breath. The leader of the mob pivoted to look the smaller man in the face.

"What did you just say, Mathews?" the wrinkled man growled.

"N-nothing s-sir, nothing at all!" he stuttered out.

The sleazy, black-haired man behind him let out a dark and menacing chuckle. "He said Annabel! He still thinks that his little girl is his little girl!" the man bellowed before letting out another wave of guffaws, having to be silenced by those surrounding him.

The blue-eyed leader glared at Mathews before hissing, "She'll never be your daughter again. They took her and made her a freak, and now they are trying to brainwash her. There is no saving her now, the only thing you can do is take her out of her misery, or let us do it for you."

Mathews gulped as he tried to blink back the infuriating tears that threatened to spill. His voice was thick with emotions as he replied, "I'd rather have her living as a monster, than not living at all."

Before the leader could registered what the smaller man had said, Mathews was already running towards the unfenced school yard, yelling, "Annabel! Annabel, get your friends and run! Run now or you're going to--"

A flurry of rapid gunfire stopped him in his tracks as he fell down, blood pouring from his mouth and back. The last thing the fallen man had heard before dying was the shrill ring of someone screaming, "Daddy!" followed by more gunfire.

– -

Stepping over the foolish man, the leader of the rogue group signaled for the others to fire. The warning that Mathews had given had chased off the students from the court yard, but that was only a minor set back. They would bring this place down, even if it meant slaughtering each and every freak by hand. Signaling for the men to move forward, they all marched onto school property and shot at any movement they saw, but they mostly hit nothing but cats.

"Damn animals, they probably eat the cats," the same sleazy man from before joked, earning a few chuckles from the others as they wreaked havoc.

Some men hurled Molotov cocktails everywhere they could, setting the place ablaze in seconds. Screams of panicking teenagers could be heard as they tried desperately to find a way out, but everywhere they went was blocked by men with guns. The cries of Feldgings could be heard throughout the neighborhood as they watched helplessly as their home was burned down.

The group of men shouted and cheered in victory. However, their celebration was cut short when a line of people stepped forward. No, not people, peering closer the leader could see the sapphire tattoos that blatantly stated what they were. The horizontal line of people was a line of adult vampyres, and they looked furious. The mob of angry men made the first move, charging forward with their weapons readied. As graceful as ever, the vampyres ran, dodged, ducked, and attacked the men back, trying to keep from killing them.

One of the vampyres, the one with heart-like tattoos, was gunned downed as her back was turned. Another was hit with a surprise cocktail, the smell of burning flesh filling the air.

"Stop it!" a strong voice shouted. The authority in the voice startled the humans; they froze to see who had spoken. A tall woman stepped forward, her black dress swishing at her feet. She had a curvy figure that held great grace, even with her long legs. Her black hair hung over her shoulders, and down her back, and even though it was pin straight, it didn't look plain. Her bright green eyes were surrounded by the chaotic mesh of spiky spirals and swirls of her tattoos. Two chaotic lines branched off from the midst of the tattoos and came to meet at opposite sides of her mouth, giving her a permanent smile.

She glanced back at the burning building behind her before snapping her head back to the men in front of her, her black hair flowing behind her. The men would have been intimidated by her glare if they had been paying attention. The power and authority that surrounded the woman was enough to make them shake in their boots; the tattooed Glasgow grin made her all the more intimidating.

The woman, however, was not truly smiling. Her lips were set in a grim line, her eyes examining every face in front of her. When she spoke again, it sent shivers down the groups' back, whether from fear or something else, no one knew. "Why are you here? Why have you come and destroyed my home?!"

Swallowing his fear, the leader stepped forward and answered, "We have come to purge the world of your evil school and your disgusting species! We have come to enable the survival of the human race!"

The men behind him cheered in agreement before advancing again. The woman grinned sadly, her tattoos making her look maniac, as she outstretched her hand, palm forward. "I am sorry you feel that way, but in the name of my goddess, I must protect my home," she said coolly, as if she were talking about the weather.

Being filled with rage, the men didn't notice the woman's tattoos take on a pinkish glow until it was too late. A wave of fear washed over the men as she spoke, "Luck and chaos, heed my prayers, in the name of Nyx help me stop these evil men from harming our home. Go forth and stop them before anymore blood is shed. Now go!"

What looked like a mixture of pink fire and electricity, the woman's power shot forward, freezing all the bullets in the air. It collided with the men and almost instantly their guns fell apart. The Molotov cocktails ignited themselves, burning their holder's hands up. One cocktail fell from a man's hand and crashed to the floor, creating a circle of fire around them. Through the wall of fire, the leader of the group could still see the woman with the glowing tattoos. She was glaring at him, and he returned it tenfold. She brought her other arm forward as she slightly tilted her head to one side, her eyes never leaving his. As she began to close her hand, as if something was in it, the leader felt his heart constrict. As her hand got smaller and smaller, the pain in his chest got sharper and sharper. He fell to his knees, his hand clutching his chest. When the woman's hand fully closed into a tight fist, the leader fell to the ground in a fetal position, the people around him shouting things like, "Oh my god! I think Phil is having a heart attack!" or "Phil? Phil wake up!"

Twenty minutes later, the police had shown up and arrested the group. The paramedics arrived as well and carted away those who were dead and those who were dying. The human causality rate was much higher than the vampyre, but that was to be expected. The one that had been gunned down was forced to the go to the hospital while the vampyre that was set on fire only acquired minor burns that were easily taken care of. Soon all the humans left, leaving the vampyres and feldgings to deal with the mess left behind.

Their home was burned to the ground. The bricks were cracked and falling apart, and the only place that didn't get hit by the fire was the stables. The staff and students wonder what could burn their home like that, but it was later explained as a dangerous mixture of just about any flammable substance the hate-group was able to get their hands on. Many feldings cried on the shoulders of friends as the full realization of the event hit them. They had no where else to go, the world considered them monsters. What where they suppose to do now? The feldgings looked to their teachers for the answer, and found that they were just as dumbfounded as they were. The woman with the permanent smile stepped forward yet again, her face mirroring their sadness and grief.

"This is not the end, but a new beginning. What has happened is nothing short of tragic, but we _can_ rebuild the school. We can rebuild it somewhere much safer, somewhere where we will be accepted for what we are. Let us pray to our goddess for her guidance and for her to watch over Professor Hart as she makes a speedy recovery. Come now everyone, our welcome in Seattle has run out; let us take our leave to someplace better," the woman consoled. Everyone, vampyre and felding alike, bowed their heads in prayer, hoping for a new beginning.

**----- Flashback end--**

The vampyres and feldings were able to find their new beginning in a small city on the other side of the state. In a beautiful city by the name of Medford, where it became possible for the school to be rebuilt. At the very edge of the city, at the end of Creek View drive, sat the respected building in all its glory. Having learned from the past, a ten foot iron-wrought fence had been built around the premises, keeping intruders out.

Standing in front of the building, much like a captain at the helm of her ship, the high-priestess stood, staring at the forest that surrounded them. Earlier, she had heard some menacing noises coming from the thick wall of trees, but now she wasn't so sure she had actually heard anything at all.

"_Trust your instincts, Pandora, and the answers will come," _a comforting voice whispered. The high-priestess nodded, trusting her goddess's words.

With a silent sigh, the high-priestess retreated back into the school. "Better prepare for the newcomers," she thought aloud as she opened the large, wooden doors and retreated back into the warmth of the building.

**A/N: This idea formed...out of nowhere. Wolves are the shit, and HoN has yet to mention a wolf. Or it did and I didn't notice. XD Anyways! Moving on:**

**All feldings will have the standard blue, crescent outline. **

Real name:

Vampyre name (if available):

Age:

Appearance:

Personality:

Former:

Affinity (If any):

Fears:

Background information:

Pet (If any):

Likes (as in hobbies):

How did the character feel about vampyres before getting Marked?:

How does the character feel about actually being Marked?:

Other:

Good or evil:

Pairings? If so, what is the perfect significant other for them?:

What would they like in a friend?:

Would you care if they have a roommate?:

Do you care if the character lives or dies?:

Do you understand that by entering this character, that you give me (the author) the right to change anything I see fit?:

**Answering the last question with a yes will increase your chances greatly, but if you have a good character that doesn't require changes, then the last question won't be needed, now will it? XD**

**If you'd like to create a teacher:**

Real name:

Vampyre name (if available):

Age:

Mark/Tattoos:

Appearance:

Personality:

Subject (as in, what subject do they teach?):

Affinity (If any):

Fears:

Background information:

Pet (If any):

Likes (as in hobbies):

Other:

Good or evil:

Pairings? If so, what is the perfect significant other for them?:

What would they like in a friend?:

Would you care if they have a roommate?:

Do you care if the character lives or dies?:

Do you understand that by entering this character, that you give me (the author) the right to change anything I see fit?:

**If you are interested in creating a main antagonist, please PM me and I will give you a character sheet. If you wish to keep your character a secret until their debut chapter, then send the filled out character sheet through a PM. I will chose the high-priestess in-training myself, so remember, the more creative a character is, the higher the chance you'll get chosen. **

**Remember, no HoN rip-offs or Mary-sues. If you don't know what either of these are, there is always Wikipedia. XP**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Don't I feel pathetic. I'd hate to see this story fail because I didn't get enough characters, so please, enter an OC. **

**Let's see if I can spell Fledglings correctly more than once in this chapter, eh? XD**

**And due to my lack of character submissions, I'll have to use my character in the first chapter, something I hate to do. So yeah, go and tell your friends, whatever it takes!**

**--**

Bright blue eyes connected with pale green ones, silently pleading with them. The old green ones radiated with sorrow, whereas the shocking blue ones glistened with fear and unshed tears.

An old, feminine voice broke the uncomfortable silence between the two people, sniffling as she said, "Don't worry about him, Frank, he's a tough kid, he'll make it through this."

The elderly man cleared his throat of the emotions that were lodged there, his green eyes leaving the blue ones, "I know that he will, but I've seen this boy grow and change over the years. He's more of a son to me than a grandchild, and to see him having to go through this is...painful." Frank paused to wipe away the tears that had formed in his eyes before continuing, "Don't worry sport, you'll make it through this. We just have to get you to that school, and you'll be fine."

"I don't want to leave," a tiny voice whimpered. "I don't want to," he repeated, his voice crackling.

As if a dam had burst, the tears erupted, barely voicing the raw sadness that the family of three felt. The flow of tears were interrupted by a series of violent coughs, which pulled at the heartstrings of the elderly couple.. The young boy gasped for the air that his lungs were being denied. The gray-haired woman stood up and shuffled into the kitchen, returning with a wet rag in one hand, and a glass of water in the other.

"Calm down, sweetheart, or else you're going to have another panic attack," she said, tilting her young charge's head back and placing the cool towel on his forehead. The black-haired boy took a deep, ragged breath, trying desperately to fight off the looming panic attack. After his breathing had calm and his coughing storm settled, the boy took a sip of water from the glass his grandmother retrieved for him.

The old man, Frank, cleared his throat again before saying, "Once your done here, we'll go help you pack, son."

The boy nodded silently, not trusting himself to keep the emotions from interfering with his speech. The boy daintily sipped his water, not paying attention to what his grandparents were doing. He was too caught up in his mind to see anything else beside the chicken-printed table that his eyes were boring into. What was going to happen now? Was he expected to just cut off all ties with his family? What if he died? What if-- A wrinkled hand on his shoulder silenced his unpleasant thoughts, bringing him back to the tiny house where he was raised half his life. The teen looked up at his grandfather and flashed him a sad smile which was returned. Without needing another word, the teenaged boy rose to his feet and lead his grandfather up the steep stairs that led to the second floor.

When he had first been sent to live with his grandparents, the seven year-old child had been surprised by the tiny home. That was the only way to describe the house, tiny. The one-bedroom home finely housed the elderly couple, but when the young boy had arrived, the small attic had been gutted, ventilated, carpeted, and painted to make the space more homier for the child. The quiet child had squealed happily when he saw his new room, exclaiming that it was smaller than his old room, but so much cooler.

Now at the age of fifteen, the once-happy child stood in his room. Is it still his room? Is this still his home? As if reading the teenager's mind, the elderly man clamped his hand onto his shoulder and stated, "This will always be your home, you know. You'll always be welcomed here, no matter what."

The boy smiled down at his grandfather, wrapping his gangly arms around him and enveloping the old man in a warm hug. With a deep chuckle, Frank replied, "Hopefully those vampyre folks will be able to put some meat on your bones. Heavens knows how hard your grandmother tried."

The teen blushed at his caretaker's words, causing his grandpa to let out a roar of laughter. The teen knew he was awkwardly tall and surprisingly thin, but no one had pointed it out to him before, well, not directly. He always wondered why his grandma gave him extra helpings at mealtimes...

Joining his grandfather with his own light chuckle, the two stood beneath the pull-down ladder that lead to the attic. Chuckling at the expectant stare he was receiving, the teen reached up and yanked on the chain, a fold-up ladder spilling from the ceiling. The tall teen scrambled up the ladder and spun around just in time to help the elderly man up the steep structure.

"I'm getting too old for this, dang it," the old man grumbled.

"You're getting to old for this? _I'm _getting too old for this," the old woman snapped as the teen helped her into the room.

"Goodness, Emily, you almost gave me a heart attack!" Frank shouted, clutching his chest.

"Now, now Frank, it's not my fault you're such a scaredy-cat, now is it?" Emily giggled, patting her husband's salt-and-peppered hair. Frank crossed his arms with a 'hmmp' and looked away. With another chuckle, Emily asked, "Are you really pouting?"

His amusement leaking into his voice, the teen said, "I think he is, grandma. Maybe you should put him in the corner so he can think about it."

Frank let out another peal of laughter and turned to face his family. "Since when did you develop a sense of humor, huh child?"

The black-haired boy blinked once before the insult fully processed in his mind. "Hey!" he shouted. He blushed as his grandparents laughed at his delayed reaction.

Once the laughter had died down, the room filled with an uncomfortable air. This could very well be their little boy's last time to ever be in this room. After today, everything was going to change. For better or worse, no one could know but the goddess that had chosen him. A single sniffle alerted the teen to his grandmother, who was trying to hold in her tears. The blue-eyed boy was ready to go and comfort her, but his grandpa beat him to it. "Come on, Emily, buck up. The boy isn't the only one who has to be strong through this," he said. Frank lowered his voice so only his wife could hear him before continuing, "He needs us to support him if we want him to survive this."

Emily nodded at her husband's logic, defiantly wiping the tears from her eyes and straightening up. She turned to face the boy that she had raised for eight years, and with a smile, said, "Come on, we have some packing to do."

With a warm smile, the small family packed their child's life away into a single duffel bag.

-- Three hours later--

"I still don't see why we couldn't have taken the rent-a-car they offered to send," Emily complained as she squirm in her seat to get comfortable. As like their lifestyle, the family car was a small, rusty old pick-up truck that has definitely seen better days.

"Because, I'm not about to let this boy forget what kind of life he comes from. No siree, no fancy-smancy limousines for our boy," Frank replied as he tried to roll down the window to let some cool air into the stuffy truck.

"Gee, thanks Grandpa," a voice floated from small window behind them. The decrepit, pale-yellow truck was no longer big enough to comfortably fit the teenaged boy in the cab with the elderly couple, so he had been forced to ride in the bed of the truck, next to his luggage. Once before they had tried cramming him in with them, but that only led to a panic attack and the discovery of the teen's claustrophobia. From that moment on, he rode in the bed of the truck. Not that the boy had a problem with that, he had always enjoyed the feel of air whipping past his face. It made him feel...safe. It was what made him almost join the track team at school. Key word: almost.

His grandfather's booming voice brought him back into the present. "'ey, if there's one thing that'll never happen, it's my boy turning into some snob who thinks he's better than anyone else, got that?"

With a small grin, the boy replied, "Alright Gramps, I hear you. I promise not to become some super jerk just because I'm different."

"Not only different, but better. Now I know most humans don't like to hear this, but vampyres, hell, even the Fledglings, are much tougher than humans. Yeah, you _are _going to be better than all the humans, but it doesn't mean you have to act like it. If I hear about all that power going to your head, boy, I'll be there to smack it out, got it? "

"Got it Gramps. I promise not to turn into a monster, okay?"

"That's right, boy, and another thing-- whoa!" Frank's train of thought was interrupted as he swerved on the road. The truck spun out of control before the elderly man eased off the gas, just into time to avoid running into a ditch. Gasping deeply, the wrinkled man turned to his wife and inspected her for any visible injury. Upon seeing none, he gently asked, "Honey, are you alright?"

Fear evident in her eyes, the gray-haired woman shakily nodded her head in confirmation before gasping and jumping out of the truck. Following his wife's lead, Frank stepped out of the truck and scrambled around to the bed of the vehicle. His heart lurched when he heard his wife gasp, not knowing what kind of site was waiting for him. As he reached the end of the vehicle, he too gasped at what he saw. His grandson's bag had been tossed out of the truck and his items were scattered about the lonely highway. What scared the couple the most was that there was no sign of their grandchild. Before the panic could set in, they heard the familiar sound of violent coughing. But, why was it coming from the _front _of the truck? The elderly couple skittered to the front of their vehicle, only to meet a blank area. Another series of coughs lead the couple to the ditch in front of their vehicle. Cautiously, the two approached the rocky ditch. They peered over the ledge and gasped in horror. There laid their boy, coughing and forehead covered in blood, in the bottom of the ditch. Their eyes widened in awe as the teen rose to his feet, still coughing, and climbed out of the ditch. He stared at his caretakers, scratching his head in confusion. He gasped in shock when his pale hand came back with deep crimson on it. Emily reacted instantly, dashing to the truck and pulling out a hidden first aid kit. Scurrying back to her family, she quickly began the ugly task of cleaning her grandchild's head wound.

The teen groaned in pain as his grandmother pushed back his black hair in order to get to the small cut on his hairline. "What happened?" he croaked.

"Some sort of animal ran across the damn freeway! Like a stupid dog or something!" Frank replied, angrily kicking the truck's tires.

"There's no way that could have been a dog, it was much too big and much too fast. Maybe a mountain lion or something," Emily stated as she tenderly wiped the blood off her charge's forehead. She stared sadly at the azure outline of a crescent that blatantly stated to the world what her boy was and what he would be turning into.

Sensing his grandmother's inner despair, the teen smiled in a way that he hoped was reassuring, but the pain from his forehead made it anything but. Emily smiled gratefully at her grandson's attempt at trying to cheer _her _up when _he _was the one going through all this. Alone at that. _"What were these vampyre people thinking when they designed this whole process? That the guardians would just let their children go?" _Emily thought bitterly.

Shaking the unwanted thoughts from her head, Emily brushed the boy's shaggy hair out of his electric blue eyes, her fingers grazing the crescent moon tattoo. "Are you okay, son?" Frank's deep voice startled the old woman.

"Yeah, I think so Grandpa," he replied, smiling up at his grandfather. Pulling him and his grandmother to their feet, the teen unstably stood, leaning against the truck to keep himself from falling down. He clamped his eyes shut until the uneasiness in his stomach settled and he was confident he wouldn't throw up all over the place. When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted by the lovely surprise of his clothes strewn across the road. The teen sighed as he began picking up all of his stuff, his mood lifting when his grandparents joined in. After several minutes, they were able to get almost all of the boy's items back into his bag...all except one. Panic shone through the teens eyes as he frantically searched the ground. Where was it? It had to be here somewhere, right? A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he saw the picture being held out before him by a pale, wrinkled hand. Latching his hand onto his grandfather's, he happily took the picture from him. "Thanks Grandpa, I'm sure I would have freaked if I didn't find it," the boy said.

"Yeah, I figured so, considering you haven't let that picture out of your site every since you found it," Frank replied, a small smile on his face.

"Well, if it was the only picture of your parents, would you let out of your site?" the boy retorted.

"I suppose not," Frank snorted. "But be happy that I let you keep the only picture I have of my daughter."

"Now Frank, it _is _his mother in that picture," Emily stated, plucking the photo from the teen's hand and staring at it. It was a picture of a teenaged girl, no younger than fifteen, holding a baby boy in her arms. The girl's hair was pitch black, just like the baby's, and was thrown into a sloppy bun. Her green eyes reflected the hard eight months she had just gone through, yet they still shone with a motherly glow. The tiny baby in her arms, obviously premature, had its big, round eyes opened, shining a crystal clear blue. The two sat on a checkered picnic blanket with trees behind them and plates full of food surrounding them. They shared the same smile, one of which faltered due to the lack of teeth, but was otherwise the same. The young mother beamed happily at the camera, or more so the man behind the camera. The blue-eyed father of her child stood behind the camera, trying pathetically to get a decent picture of his family, to freeze that moment forever in time, to always have something to look back on.

Emily was jolted from her reverie by a gentle pat on the shoulder. She turned to face the same face of her daughter, all except the eyes. Her little angel had been cursed with the eyes of that...that devil. In every other aspect, her grandson looked just like his mother. His nose, his mouth, hair, bone structure, heck, even his slightly curled ears belonged to her. Everything was exactly like her, all except those eyes. Emily remembered when she first met her daughter's boyfriend, how those eyes glistened with child-like innocence. But then after _that, _those exuberant blue orbs hardened and because pale, unfeeling stones. Another tap on the shoulder caused Emily to blink back and register her surroundings.

Her grandson and husband stood in front of her, their eyes reflecting the worry they felt. With a watery smile, Emily announced, "I'm fine, really, I am. Just a bit nostalgic today, nothing I can't ride out."

The elderly woman handed the photo back to the onyx-haired teen and retreated back into the cramped space of the truck. With a shrug, the teen hoisted his bag into the bed of the truck, sat down next to the dirty green duffel bag, and with one final glance at the picture, he pocketed it.

As he started the car, Frank called out, "Y'know, the thing that's bothering me is how did you end up in the _front _of the car? Were you standing up at the time or something?"

"No, I was just sitting here one moment, and the next thing I know, you're looking down at me like I was dead or something," the teen replied from the bed of the truck.

"What puzzles me the most is that even though you landed in front of the truck, in a rocky ditch, you only suffered an extremely mild head injury, thank goodness for that, but it just doesn't make any sense. It's like you flew over us and landed wrong or something," his grandmother voiced.

"Yeah, that is really weird, don't you think, son?" Frank asked. Before the teen could reply, his body was wracked with coughs. His skin paled immediately and sweat shone from his forehead. The sunlight was agonizing, the way it beat down onto his flesh; it felt like his head was splitting open. The teen groaned in pain as the sun continued to torture him.

"Frank, what's happening?!" Emily screeched.

"Nothing that's not suppose to happen, I'm surprise that it didn't occur earlier," Frank replied, adding pressure to the gas pedal. Soon enough, the pained groans turned into anguished screams. Unable to listen to her baby boy's shouted, Emily turned to her husband and shrieked, "Do something!"

With a roar, the truck skidded to a halt and Frank stepped out. At first Emily was confused by her husband's actions, but quickly realized what he was doing when he opened her door and tossed the sallow boy into the cab. Due to him being so tall, the teen would have hit his head on the roof of the truck had he not been curled into a tight ball on his grandmother's lap. Frank slammed his door shut and stomped on the gas pedal, lurching the vehicle forward. Now that he was out of the sun, the teen's screams had stopped, but now they had to deal with his claustrophobia. The black-haired child weakly pushed against his grandma's hold on him, in hopes of getting away from the tight space. "Shhh, it's okay baby, everything is going to be okay," Emily whispered softly, brushing his hair lovingly to one side.

Tears of fear freely flowed from the boy's eyes, breaking the elderly couple's heart. With a defeated sigh, Emily turned to her husband and dejectedly asked, "Can you?"

Not needing her to finish the question, Frank grimly took one hand off the steering wheel and pressed it to a spot on the boy's neck, effectively rendering the teen unconscious.

"I hate doing that," the elderly couple said at the same time. They both looked down sadly at the sleeping teen who seemed so small in his grandmother's frail arms.

"Step on it Frank, we got to get him to that school _now,_" Emily stated, wiping the sweat from her grandson's forehead.

With a grunt of affirmation, Frank replied by pressing the gas pedal against the floor.

--Two hours later--

Voices and shapes all blurred into one, large mass of darkness, confusing the black-haired teen to no end. What had happened? One second it felt like he was on fire, the next it was as if he was trapped in a cage. But now, now he was free. He could no longer feel the aching cough that had settled into his chest earlier that day, when he had been...when he had been Marked. Is that where he was now, at the Medford House of Night? Where were his grandparents? Were they okay? Did they stay to say goodbye, or had they left the freak behind without a single fleeting glance? He internally groaned in frustration, _"Why can't I open my eyes?" _

"_All questions will be answered soon enough, my child. All I have to say to you now is, when that time comes, be prepared to run and fly away," a soothing, motherly voice reached out. _

"_W-who's there? W-where am I? Wha-" _his frantic questioning was cut off by the cold touch of someone's hand on his forehead. He rocketed up off the thin pillow he had been lying on and flailed his arms around, not only successfully connecting with someone's flesh, but also knocking several glass items off the bedside table.

"Whoa, easy there, sweetheart," a unfamiliar voice called out. His newly rekindled confusion only added to his upset, causing his breaths to become erratic.

"Chaos and luck, ease this child's mind and motions. I pray you can bring his frantic state into one of peace and tranquility. Go forth and help this young man!" a different, stronger voice shouted.

Before the ebony-haired teen knew what was happening, his body was enveloped in what looked like pink electricity, calming his mind enough to let him scan his surroundings. He was in a room that looked very much like the nurses office back at his old school. That's when the smell hit him like a brick wall. The smell of antiseptics infiltrated his nose, burning the inside of his nasal cavities and giving him a headache. He rubbed his eyes with his palms, trying to clear his head before he did anything else stupid. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that he was surrounded by three women, one of which had glowing tattoos, and two men. Off in the corner he saw his grandparents huddled together, shaking fearfully. The teen's eyes widened in shock when he remembered he had hit someone. Who was it? He hoped to whatever god that was out there that it wasn't one of the girls, or his grandparents. After the glowing woman sensed that the black-haired teen had calmed down, she lowered her arms and her tattoos lost their pinkish glow. The pink electricity that was once running up and down his body was no longer there, and he felt more controlled over his actions.

He sat up and blinked hazily, attempting to clear his foggy thoughts. When had he gotten here? Before he could voice his question, he was crushed by his grandmother's famous, iron-gripped hug. "Oh my baby boy! Are you okay!? I'm so sorry that we had to do that to you, but I couldn't stand to see you like that!" his grandma shouted, suffocating her grandchild against her chest. Gently, but firmly, the teen detached himself from his clingy grandmother.

"What are you talking about?" he groggily mumbled.

Emily bit her lip in worry, wracking her brain for a good way to explain what happened when she was interrupted by a dignified voice, "You're grandparents acted in the best way they saw fit. You became severely close to having a panic attack, so your guardians saw it fit to temporarily render you unconscious to prevent it."

Emily and Frank watched with heavy hearts as they witnessed each emotions flutter across their grandchild's eyes. Confusion, anger, betrayal, distrust, sadness, defeat... helplessness. Taking a calming breath, the blue-eyed teen muttered, "So, what happens now?"

The grandparents cringed at how emotionally detached their charge sounded, but didn't say anything. The black-haired authority figure spoke again, her voice the same as before, "You're grandparents will have to sign some paperwork, legally transferring any and all responsibility of you to the House of Night. You will have to stay in here until we get everything settled, understand?"

"Y-yeah, s-sure," the teen stuttered, gingerly rubbing his head as if it would keep the confusion from clouding it. He had been expected the intimidating woman to have left the room with his grandparents in tow, so he was surprised when a pale hand set its self on top of his. He looked up and his eyes connected with the greenest pair of eyes he had ever seen.

"Before we get anything else done, there is one thing you should know about being a vampyre. Upon arriving at the House of Night, you are able to change your name to one of your liking, if you chose to do so. Is there any other name you would like to be called?" the green-eyed High Priestess explained.

The teen eye's widened in shock. Maybe turning into a vamp wasn't so bad if he got to change his name. He was never really a fan of the name he had been given when he was born. His grandmother had tried to name him something worse, but thanks to some bartering from his parents, they were able to make a compromise. He always liked the name his mother had tried to give him. Clearing his throat of the emotions that gather there whenever he thought of his missing mother, the black-haired teen replied, "Dax. I want my name to be Dax Logan now."

Frank chuckled when his wife turned to pout and said, "Come on Emily, you knew it would come and bite you in the ass when you convinced our daughter to name him _Dolly_. I'm surprised the kid didn't change his name sooner. Lord knows I would have."

"There's nothing wrong with his birth name. I think it's adorable," Emily huffed.

"Yeah, for a three year-old girl's nickname, but for a tall, fifteen year-old boy's_ true _name, that's just screaming for trouble," Frank retorted.

But before Emily could reply with a remark of her own, she was interrupted by the onyx-haired woman, "Hello Dax Logan. I am Pandora and I would like to welcome you here to the House of Night."


	3. Chapter 3

Dax watched helplessly from the bed as his grandparents and the mysterious High-Priestess exited the mini-hospital, two vampyres trailing behind them. Dax looked back at the other two people in the room and noticed the remaining female nurse giving him a welcoming smiling. He strained his muscles trying to return it.

Movement from the edge of his eye attracted his attention to the corner farthest from him, where the remaining male vampyre stood. Dax almost shuddered under the muscular vamp's steely gaze before he settled into the decently comfortable hospital bed. He stared at the ceiling, processing his thoughts and trying to keep from breaking down again.

So far he knew he was a Fledgling and he was currently sitting in the Medford House of Night infirmary. He bite back a groan of frustration as he fully realized what had happened. They were driving to the House of Night, he somehow ended up in a ditch in front of the truck, then there was an intense pain as the clouds parted, something he knew wasn't normal, the feeling of being suffocated, then nothing but darkness.

He already knew that his Grandpa had knock him unconscious using the pressure points system he learned in some war. Dax always hated when he did that. It felt like he was taking about his freewill, his ability to control himself. He wasn't just some wild animal that needed to be sedated, he was just a kid! Dax sighed through his nose. No, scratch that, he was now a Fledgling. A freak of nature. A monster that everyone hated. Nothing but a no-good, evil little--

The sound of a girl protesting cut off Dax's train of thought and tugged his eyes toward the entrance. "I told you, I'm fine," she deadpanned.

"Rayana, your freaking hand is broken! You are not _fine!_" a male voice bellowed.

"You idiot, it's not broken,. It's just a little sprain that doesn't even hurt that bad," the girl retorted.

"Pfft whatever, see if I care if they have to cut off your hand," the male replied indifferently.

"Damien, you can be a real assh--" the girl froze once she entered through the door and noticed Dax sitting in bed. Dax could practically see the shield behind her green eyes go up as her body tensed. She had stopped so abruptly that the boy that was walking behind her almost ran right into the platinum blonde girl.

"What the hell Rayana? You just can't stop all of the su-- Who the hell are you?" the very muscular teen asked, finally noticing Dax.

Dax squirmed in his bed under their intense glares, but luckily he was saved by the female nurse from before. "Rayana, Damien, this is Dax Logan. He was recently Marked and will be attending this branch of the House of Night, so please, treat him with the same respect and curtsey you would treat me," the nurse explained.

The two Fledglings stopped gawking long enough to numbly nod in understanding. With a satisfied smile, the nurse walked over to Dax. She stopped so she was close enough to the bandages on his head, and while she set to work unwrapping them, she said, " Rayana, you take a seat over on the bed besides here. Damien, I want you to return back to class."

As the brown-eyed teen geared up to protest, the brunette nurse added, "I don't want to hear it. From what I know, you can't afford to miss another drama class with Professor Dimitri. So run along and hurry up and get to his class. Othello awaits."

With a groan of annoyance, the black-haired teen sulked out of the room while the tall blonde shuffled towards the hospital bed adjacent to Dax. While she was talking, the nurse had fully unwrapped the bloody bandages from Dax's head. Ignoring as Dax hissed in pain, she continued to thoroughly clean the head wound.

"Either your grandmother did a wonderful job bandaging you up, or it was a rather minor cut because there's nothing left but a small scab and a bruise," the nurse reported, grabbing something off the bedside table.

Dax's eyes widened when he noticed the discolored patch of skin on the nurse's cheek. Guilt ate away at him and before he could stop himself he loudly blurted, "I'm sorry!"

The sudden exclamation startled Rayana and the nurse, both of them staring at him oddly. Embarrassed, he rattled of a messy apology. "I-I-I'm really sorry for, y'know, f-for hitting you."

The nurse cocked her head to the side in confusion before realization washed over her face. "It was an accident, there is no need for you to apologize," she said warmly. Seeing the guilt still in his eyes, the nurse added, "I'm a positive that if I were in your situation, I would've done the very same thing. Only except I would've aim lower if it were a male near me."

Success! She got him to smile! The nurse smiled back before walking over to Rayana's bed and inspecting the blonde's bruised hand, leaving Dax alone with his thoughts.

"_At least she doesn't seem upset about me hitting her, " _he thought reassuringly. Honestly, all this was too much to take in, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock and sleep for a thousand years. Actually, sleep sounded nice. Dax closed his eyes, chiding himself that he was only resting his eyes when before he knew it, he was out like a light.

His dream had started out as a normal day at school. He had missed the bus and ended up running all the way there, only to enter the building seconds before the bell rang. He slithered his way through the bustling hall, trying desperately not to attract any unwanted attention to himself. That's when he saw it, or rather him. A tall, muscular man with a face that said nothing but business. Sapphire tattoos caressed his face, causing him to stick out like a sore thumb.

Most teenagers noticed him, some ignored him, but many crowded around him, curious about him. Ever since Zoey Redbird and her gang had done all that they'd done many years ago, the humans' opinion on vampyres have changed a bit. Many people still didn't like them, and sadly the People of the Faith were still around, but more people were beginning to embrace the idea of vampyres.

Teenagers were no different, but no matter what one thought of the vamps, most still thought it was terrifying to see someone get Marked. Today was no different. They were gathered around the Tracker to wait and see who his victim would be, as morbid as it sounded.

Dax had just shrugged and tried to slink by unnoticed. His grandparents taught him that vampyres were superior, but they were still very similar to humans. His heart had nearly jumped into his throat when the Tracker's booming voice echoed through the packed hallway.

"Dolly Logan! Night has chosen thee; thy death will be thy birth. Night calls to thee; hearken to Her sweet voice. Your destiny awaits you at the House of Night!"

Everyone gasped in shock when they saw that the Tracker had been pointing straight at Dax. Dax turned in confusion and he opened his mouth to say something when an explosion of pain erupted from his forehead. He collapsed to the floor like a house of cards, holding his head in between his hands.

"_This definitely explained the sudden cough. But why here, why now?"_ His thoughts were so jumbled he did the only sensible thing he could think of. He ran. He burst through the double doors of the entrance and ran home. He ran faster than he every thought possible. As he ran, no one noticed the distressed teen. No one noticed the tears forming in his eyes. But then, Dax thought bitterly as he raced through the small town, no one had noticed him for a long time.

–

Dax was jolted awake once again by the sudden sensation of a cold hand on his forehead. This time, he was aware of his surroundings and was able to keep himself from flailing about. His vision was bleary when he looked up out the figure looming over him. _"When had an angel entered the room?"_ he sleepily thought. Only an angel could have hair that bright and look that beautiful.

"Hey, wake up."

"_Wait a second, angels aren't suppose to sound so... emotionless." _Dax rubbed his eyes clear of the sleep that had accumulated there, his vision clearing enough for him to see properly. Wait a second, that's not an angel...

"Who're you?" he slurred.

"I'm Rayana. Ray-yawn-na," she sounded out. "Mispronounce it and suffer."

"Oh, hi R-Ray-yawn-na?" he pronounced unsurely. Only when Rayana nodded her head in approval did he continue, "Hi, I'm Dax Logan and I guess I'm the new kid."

"Oh, you don't need to worry, you are not the only new kid around here. As of late, so many kids have been getting Marked. Anyways, I was told to wake you up. Something about needing your signature or whatever. I must say, you fall into a deep sleep rather quickly. I almost thought you were dead," she said.

Not sure what to say, Dax just silently nodded. He crawled out of bed, paused a moment to make the room stop spinning, and exited the infirmary. Not five seconds later did he poke his head back in through the doorway, a sheepish grin on the corner of his lips. "Huh, I don't know where I'm going."

"Go straight, turn left, then take a right, then go straight again. The room they should be in is on the third door to your left," Rayana answered without missing a beat, twirling her blonde-almost white- hair through her fingers.

"R-right then," Dax replied, blushing. Damn hormones. _"Okay, go straight first, I can do that," _he reassured himself. Taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves, Dax unsteadily walk forward. As the recently marked Fledgling walked, he was finally able to fully take in his surroundings.

The infirmary was nice, with its midnight blue walls and rich oak floors, but the hallway he was currently in was just plain beautiful. Instead of plain white, the walls were a warm purple that held intricate designs in the paint. Dax thought he saw a woman cupping a crescent moon, but he brushed it away from his mind. The floors were a luscious, mild gray, giving one the feeling of walking on clouds. There was something in the air that would calm the most spastic of souls. He sniffed the air, trying to identify the smell.

"_Is that incense?" _Dax was so concentrated in trying to place the aroma, that he almost ran into a wooden end table. He managed to catch himself before falling, and looked around to see if anyone saw his blunder. Luckily, he was in the hall by himself. That's when he noticed that he came to the place where the hall split off, forming a T-shape. He was never very good at remembering stuff.

"_Was it left first, or right?" _he thought, glancing between the right and the left.

"Uuuh, I think it was right," he muttered under his breath, slowly veering towards the left. He rounded the corner and ran right into something very solid, causing him to fall flat on his butt. Dax vaguely heard the sound of someone else falling down as well, but he was too concentrated on his own pain. God, it felt like he landed on his spine!

"Watch it!"

"_Hey, that voice is familiar," _Dax thought. He looked up from the ground and found a very large person towering over him. _"He must've caught himself before he fell."_

"Oh, it's you, the new kid," the muscular figure spoke. Dax had to admit, he was a bit jealous. He was an awkward stick, whereas this guy was looked like he could break him in half! "Hey, kid, you alright? You didn't rattle your brain too much, did you?" the teen said teasingly.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Dax awkwardly brought himself to his feet, and discovered that he was a bit taller than the built teen. Truth be told, he was still a bit intimidating. The black-haired teen before him had an extremely large build, but not so much it looked strange.

Remembering that he had spoken to him, Dax nervously replied, "Uh, y-yeah, sorry about that. I-I'm just trying to find... uh, th-the...uuuuuh."

"Uuuh, what, brainiac?" the brown-eyed teen pushed.

"Uuum, that one woman. The one with black hair and green eyes and the tattoos that glow pink," Dax described, feeling foolish for not being able to remember the woman's name.

"Oh!" the teen exclaimed. "You're looking for the High-Priestess, Pandora. C'mon, I can show you to her office."

Dax smile appreciatively and gratefully followed the hulking teen down the hall. _"Oh, so it was __left...oopsy," _he thought ruefully to himself.

Feeling awkward in the silence, Dax said the first thing that came to mind, "Uh, so, you're name is...uum, David?" Noticing the disgusted look he was receiving, Dax tried again, "No wait, no! Damon-no- Damien! Your name is Damien! Hah, I remember seeing you with Rayana!" he stated triumphantly.

Damien looked as if he was embarrassed for the twig-like kid. Was he for real? "Heh, yeeaah, that's me. Now come on, we are almost to Pandora's office," Damien reported, wanting to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

"Uh, Damien, can I ask you a question?" Dax timidly pondered.

Damien groaned internally. Does he ever shut up? "Sure, go ahead," he replied, exasperated.

Sensing Damien's want to cease all talking, Dax fluently asked, "Why do they call her Pandora?"

Damien only hesitated a moment, due to the surprise of his question not being stupid. Actually, it was pretty understandable. "They call her Pandora because that's the name she chose when she became a vampyre. It matches her affinity, actually." Seeing Dax's confused expression, he elaborated, "Pandora dealt with chaos and all that good stuff when she had that box, right?" With a nod from Dax, he continued, "Well, Pandora- our High-Priestess- has an affinity for chaos and luck. Some of the smarter kids call it an affinity for probability, but whatever."

Dax nodded in understanding, quietly processing the new information he just received. His body was on auto-pilot, unconsciously following his muscular guide. He didn't even notice when they turned right. Unable to contain it, he blurted, "But then why do her tattoos glow when she uses her powers?"

Damien answered with a shrug, "I dunno. Rumors say that she was chosen by Nyx herself, and they sent her away from Brazil to attend the House of Night in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Y'know, to train under Zoey Redbird to become a High-Priestess. Everyone thought that she was destined to do something great, like her mentor did, but she didn't. She just became a normal-ish High Priestess and moved out here to Oregon."

"Oh... How long have you been here? You sound like you know a lot," Dax observed.

"Me? I've been here about...hmmm, how long _have _I been here?" Damien asked himself. With a snap of his fingers, the beefy teen answered, "Hah! I've been here about five months now. They teach about all that stuff Zoey Redbird did in Vampyre Soc. 102."

"Five months? Wow, that's a long time..." Dax mumbled under his breath. Damien heard him anyways, but opted to ignore it.

Dax was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't notice that Damien had stopped walking and he almost ran straight into him. Again. "Here, this is your stop, Twig," Damien announced, ignoring as Dax scrunched his face up in annoyance at the nickname. "Seeya later," the brown-eyed teen grunted as he left. Dax awkwardly waved goodbye, mumbling a thank you.

He turned towards the rich, dark wooden door, gulping in dread. Not that he'd ever say this out loud, but he found Pandora a bit frightening. _"And familiar," _he thought. _"In fact, she looks just like mom."_

Yet again, shaking his head clear of unwanted thoughts, Dax grasped the golden doorknob and twisted it open. Carefully, he poked his head in through the door, to be greeted with his grandparents smiling at him and a professional Pandora sitting behind a desk that matched the door. Smiling nervously, he gradually stepped in. "You wanted to see me?" he asked.

"Yes, Dax. In order for your grandparents to transfer legal responsibility of you, I need your signature as well," Pandora explained politely.

Nodding in understanding, Dax approached the large desk. Looking around, Dax felt completely out of place. He was an awkward teenager with a disheveled appearance standing in the middle of what felt like a freaking castle for Pete's sake! Gulping down his emotions and thoughts, Dax took the pen that the High-Priestess was offering and pressed it down to the paper before him. Not knowing what to write, Dax inquired, "Uh, do I sign with my real name or my...current, name?"

With a small, supportive smile, Pandora informed, "This is a legal document, transferring the responsibility of Dolly Logan, so please, sign your human name."

Human name? That sounded so alien in Dax's ears, but nonetheless he scrawled his birth name on the designated lines. An initial here, signature here, print your full name here, and he was done. He handed the pen back to Pandora, who dropped it into a desk drawer.

She stood up and subconsciously Dax backed up a few steps. A small smile gracing her features, she held her hand out to Frank, saying, "It was a pleasure meeting you. We have already gone through visitation rules, so I will escort you to the front gates. Dax, you may come to say goodbye."

Frank shook the woman's hand, slightly surprised by her strong grip, his wife mimicking his actions. A wall of ice-cold fear slammed into Dax. He was saying goodbye now. He'd have to live without his grandparents now. This wasn't fair. He was only fifteen, he shouldn't have to be forced to say goodbye.

His heart ached fiercely as he thought of how his life would be, or worse yet, how his grandparents life would be. His guardians were quite old, and what if something happened to them? He had always thought he was their reason for living, their reason to fight their old age, but with him gone, what would happen? He didn't want to lose them, they were his only family that he knew of.

Being too caught up in his thoughts, Dax hadn't realized he was outside (or that it was now night) until his grandmother captured him in another bone-crushing hug. He suppressed the need to gasp for air and meekly returned the deadly hug. His grandmother took a step back, but her hands were still on the teens shoulders. She was smiling, that much he could tell thanks to the oil-fueled lamps, but the emotions in her eyes told Dax that she was just as scared as he was.

Clearing her throat, she said, "You be good, you hear me? And try to think of this as an adventure, okay? Think of it as a fresh start. Y'know make some friends. And you know that if you ever need us, you can always call, you got that dear?"

Dax nodding, a small smile gracing his features. She always knew what to say to make him feel better. Emily stepped away from the teen, allowing Frank to get closer. Dax smiled slightly as his grandfather cleared his throat awkwardly. He was never really good at saying good-bye.

The elderly man clumsily pulled a bottle of pills out of his pocket and handed them to the boy. "Uh here. You know, just in case you have an anxiety attack o-or whatever," he mumbled.

Dax smiled knowingly. This was his way of saying good-bye. He took the pills from his guardian's grasped, and pulled the old man into a hug. "Thanks Gramps, for everything. Remember to call me every now and then," Dax said.

The two stepped away from each other, smiled, and Frank walked back to the truck. He climbed inside, started it, and drove away. Emily stuck her head out of the window, waving to her grandson, which he returned. Of course, since she always needed the last word, the elderly woman shouted at the top of her lungs (which was pretty loud), "Remember to eat more! You are as thin as a stick!"

Dax flushed red in embarrassment and couldn't help but think, _"Heh, yeah, that's Grandma. She always knows just what to say." _

"They will be fine, Dax Logan," Pandora said, startling Dax. He had forgotten she was there. "Your roommate/tour guide will arrive shortly to show you around. I would do it myself, but I am quite busy. I apologize for that."

"Uh, yeah, i-it's okay," he replied. In all honesty, he didn't know what to do now. His family was gone now and he was left standing outside in the dark with an intimidating woman standing next to him. Since curiosity was already gnawing at his mind, Dax inquired, "Huh, do you know my roommate, tour guide... person's name?"

With a knowing smile, the High-Priestess answered, "Of course. His name is Damien, and I believe you have already met him. The one who led you to my office?"

Dax's eyes widened in surprise. How had she known that? However, before he could ask, the muscular teen from before waltzed up to the two. He slammed his fist over his heart and bowed before the High-Priestess, while saying, "Merry meet, High-Priestess."

Pandora copying his gesture and replied, "Merry meet, Damien."

Dax watched in confusion. The two stood at their full height, and Pandora turned to Dax, explaining, "That is how you are expected to greet a professor, or someone else who deserves respect, understand?"

She took the nod from Dax as a sign to continue, "Another way is to do this," she said, extending her hand. Damien extended his hand as well, and Dax thought they were going to give one another a handshake. However, instead of gripping one an others hand, they grabbed each others forearms and said the same greeting. "Do you understand?" Pandora asked, turning back to Dax.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," Dax replied shyly. With a warm smile and the slight nod of her head, Pandora left the two boys to talk. Dax shuffled his feet in the dirt beneath him, looking at everything but his new roommate.

An awkward silence settle upon the two, but, much to Dax's gratitude, Damien broke it, "So Twig, uh, what did you say your name was?"

Huffing at the unflattering nickname, Dax said, "I'm Do-- _Dax _Logan. So, uuh, nice to meet you."

Damien grunted in reply, turning back towards the castle-like school. Not knowing what else to do, Dax stumbled after him, much like a lost puppy. They had barely made it to an outdoor commons area when they heard a deep growling-like sound.

"Uh, what's that?" Dax wondered, fear edging its way into his voice. Damien shrugged in confusion, not knowing either. It sounded almost like an angry cat... wait, angry cat?

"Nin! Get your butt over here!" Damien bellowed, scaring the living daylights out of Dax.

"_Who the heck is Nin?" _Dax pondered. He received his answer when something black landed directly on the back of his neck. Pain erupted as something sunk into his shoulders and back area.

"What the hell?" he shouted. He hasn't been there one day and he's already tired of being a Fledgling. Go figure.

* * *

**A/N: Yay for long time between updates and awkward endings! XD I ended it there because I knew I wouldn't be able to fit anything else in without the chapter ending even more awkwardly. Anyways, still accepting characters. Next chapter is going to be pretty good. There'll be a lack of Dax in it, however.**

***Winkwinknudgenudge***

**XD 'til next time ^^**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry about taking forever, but I was staring at my plot, thinking, "What the _hell _is this trash?" So yeah, I spent quite some time trying to strengthen my plot, when BAM! It hit me. Plot wolves came cascading out from the song He Mele No Lilo which is performed by Mark Keali'i Ho'omalu. That song (with my thinking) connected with spirits, which connected with the Otherworld, which connected to the elements, which connected to...well, a lot of other things. Hang on to your ass, it's going to be a bumpy flight. XD I was also majorly inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender. The original show, not the new movie. As such, I'll try to pull ideas from all places, not just Japan and China. **

–

Rayana clenched her hand into a fist, frowning as the bandage limited her movements. Now how was she suppose to take care of her horse or spar with Damien? Then again, it was her fault she got hurt. She _had _been the one to push herself way past her limits. But what was she suppose to do? Let Damien walk away victorious?

"_No way in hell," _she thought stubbornly as she stood from the bed. A quick nod of thanks to the nurse and she left. She glanced down the way she had told the new kid to go, briefly wondering if he made it to the High-Priestess's office before she decided she didn't care. There were hundreds of kids at this school, what were the chances she would ever see the little weirdo ever again? Okay, maybe little wasn't the right word.

"_He's smaller than Damien, but taller. Barely," _she decided, turning right, down the hall that led her to two elaborately designed doors which opened to reveal a colorful quad. Gray flat stones trailed their way around large bushes, trees, and statues like gray streams. Each path led to a different place, but they all came together to form a circle around a brightly lit statue of Nyx.

Glancing at the various people sitting on the oak benches surrounding the mystical statue, Rayana followed the path that would eventually take her around the main building, through an above-ground tunnel system, and back out to the stables. There wasn't really much she could do with only one hand, but just being near the stables made her feel better. There was something about the earthy scent of hay and dirt that calmed her spirit. Not only that, but it also brought a victorious smirk to her lips.

This was something she was better at, no matter how hard Damien tried. For some reason, being near the stables made the boy twitchy and paranoid, and since the horses were kept in the stables, he's never been able to ride one. Yes, it wasn't equal or fair, but that didn't matter. She was better at riding horses, and he can put that in his juice box and suck it!

Wiping the bemused smile from her face, Rayana marched up to the short, curvy woman instructing the class and met her copper gaze with her own steely green one. The teen's eyes didn't even flicker to the cloud-like heart adorning the woman's face and waited. The instructor, Professor Hart, nodded her head in understanding and waved her hand towards the wooden benches in near the stable doors. Without speaking, Rayana went and sat down at the appropriate spot and pulled out her I-pod.

"_For a vampyre, Professor Hart is kind of chubby," _she couldn't help but think as she securely placed an ear-bud into each ear.

She only had twenty minutes to waste until the day was over and she'd be able to go back to her room. Or better yet, find Damien and kick his butt at drums. Of course, they'd probably have to go to the music room and get permission to do such a thing. Rayana crinkled her nose in disdain. Too much work just for a simple contest, even if she did want to go and play the drums.

Sighing through her nose, Rayana relaxed against the stable wall, thinking of what to do. _"A race? No, that's stupid. He's taller than me with longer legs, so he'd have a good chance at winning." _Not that she'd ever admit that to him. Rayana tapped her finger to the beat of the song she was listening to, thinking of a way to fight off boredom. _"Wait, didn't the High-Priestess say something about Damien playing tour guide? Ha, sucks to be him," _she thought with a smirk. She played with the vision of seeing the slightly intimidating teen towering over a sniveling third former. Man, she'd give her left arm to see that.

"_Maybe I can catch up with him at lunch," _she contemplated, silently going over her schedule. Yeah, she should have a pretty decent grade in all her classes so she wouldn't have to go in at lunch. Meaning, she'd be able to attacked Damien with her own brand of teasing. But then again, with a newbie shadowing him, it might be a little awkward, considering she wasn't too big on being around people she didn't trust. Hmm, that could be problematic. How was she going to rub the fact she was better in Damien's face if he was too busy playing tour-guide Barbie? She bit back a growl of frustration. It's not like it was his fault he got stuck with a newbie, right? He didn't volunteered, did he?

"_No, he didn't," _she concluded. _"Either the High-Priestess asked him or Professor Dimitri is hanging the promise of extra-credit over his head. Probably the second one."  
_

Why her rival doesn't just quit drama class, she'll never know. _"Maybe he will, one of these days," _she wondered, tucking a strand of hair behind her hair as an annoying breeze tossed it into her face. She crinkled her nose in disgust for just a moment, before a sound from the stables caught her attention.

Curiosity piqued, she turned her Ipod off and returned it to it's rightful place inside her pocket. Cautiously, she entered the barn-like structure, alert eyes scanning the room for the source of the strange noise. With each step she took, her heartbeat grew more and more frantic. It fluttered in her chest at the speed of light and her breaths came in short, anxious puffs. But why was she so afraid? She knew where she was, and what was at the end of the stables.

That was where Patches was lodged, and he was just a horse. Albeit, an old horse, but a very sturdy, trustworthy horse. She had no reason to be nervous! But that sound. That awful, pained strangled cry that she had barely heard, thanks to her raging music. She reached the last stall, and without even opening the door, she knew what had happened. She could _smell _themusty, iron scent of it. Nonetheless, shaky hands fumbled with the latch and she opened the door.

She screamed.

The High-Priestess, Pandora, resisted the urge to slam her head against the wall for several reasons. Reason one would be the fact she'd probably destroy said wall. Reason two would be she's the High-Priestess, and that would be improper. Her students looked up to her, saw her not only as a vampyre, but as a mystical being. Something...unreal. Reason number three: No matter how stupid she had been, throwing a tantrum wouldn't fix it. She needed to get her head on straight and _fix _this mess, not make it worse. But still, how could she _not _make the connection earlier? Those eyes were practically his! At first she thought it was just a coincidence, but once the child's guardians told her the history of his parents...

"_What shall I do?" _she thought, double checking the records on her desk. The proof was right in front of her, literally. But how could she ever believe something so horrible? How could he be the offspring of that _monster_?

She angrily slammed the folder shut, feeling the need to hit _something_. _"No," _she thought, taking a calming breath. _"He doesn't deserve my anger. He's dead, I'm not. Focus on the present. What am I suppose to do with this child? Does he know? If he doesn't, then I'll have to tell him, and warn him. Not now, though, nor tomorrow. Friday it is, then. Tomorrow that Senator's son is coming. I will have to find him a suitable guide and–"_

She didn't _quite _bury her head in her hands, but she did groan in disbelief. How could she forget to gather the paperwork! How on earth did she manage to forget to find him a mentor? She growled in frustrated anger. So many new students were coming in, it was ridiculous! So many, in fact, she was becoming overwhelmed with paperwork and raging parents and frightened Fledglings and–

"_Crash!_"

Pandora blinked at the shattered vase, startled. Her eyes narrowed at the scattered shards of purple porcelain, trying to set on fire with a glare. It wasn't working; she didn't have the affinity for fire. She was blessed with the unique strand of spirit that affected luck, or technically speaking, probability. Currently, she was wondering what the probability of the vase instantaneously reassembling would be. A sharp knock on the door interrupted her pondering; her eyes shifted to the door. With a wave of her hand, pink bolts hit a black end table and scooted it on top of the shards. No need to let whoever was coming in to know how stressed she really was, after all.

She quietly cleared her throat and said, "You may come in now."

Immediately the door swung opened and a flustered Professor Hart waltzed in. Pandora could practically see the anger and fear rolling off her in waves. Something bad must have happened, something that has frightened the curved teacher. The anger was probably from the fact that the equestrian teacher had to actually come and _see _her about whatever it was. Pandora was fully aware that the shorter woman didn't like her, that she thought she was too young to be of any real use. Pandora planned to prove her wrong. She stood up and said in a calm, steady voice, "What has happened, Professor Hart?"

The stout woman lifted an eyebrow, as if to say she was better than her, before replying, "One of my horses was discovered today –by a student, mind you– in it's stall, absolutely torn to shreds."

Pandora's face scrunched up in confusion. "What do you want me to do about it?"

The last time the High-Priestess had seen Professor Hart's face turn that shade of red, the school had been set on fire by a bunch of idiots. The older woman's frame shook with fury, her knuckles turning white. Even knowing it was coming, Pandora still cringed when the woman exploded. "What do you _think _I want you to do about! One of my horses is _dead_! I want you to find who ever is responsible and _bring me their head on a pike! _Is that really so hard to figure out, you young, inexperienced _brat_!"

Pandora wrestled down the urge to zap her with a probability changing bolt. Barely. With strained patience she gritted out, "I understand you are upset, Professor Hart, but there is no need for name calling." She continued on as the other woman opened her mouth to speak. "I'll do everything in my power to find out what has happened to your horse. Now, will you please lead me to the...crime scene?"

Face still red, Professor art nodded curtly and waltzed out the office, a frustrated High-Priestess at her heels.

"_The students know something's wrong," _Pandora noted as she walked through the commons area. Grim curiosity adorned each stony face they passed, a heavy silence resting on the shoulders of each and everyone of them. _"They know something's amiss, but they do not know what, exactly," _she realized. She'll have to gather them all for an assembly once this mess is sorted out. Hopefully they will be able to keep people from talking. Wait...

"You said a _student _discovered the body," she whispered low enough for her fellow vampyre to hear. She couldn't help but grin when she saw some students lean in, trying to listen in on their conversation. Didn't they know? Vampyres have much better hearing than Fledglings.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Pandora. This is _not _a laughing matter," Professor Hart growled under her breath. Pandora's smile slipped from her face only to be replaced with an agitated frown. Professor Hart ignored it. "But yes, a student did indeed discover the body. A girl named Rayana?" Her voice was purely calculating, testing to see if Pandora knew her school.

"Rayana, no last name. Seventeen year-old fourth former. Long hair that is so blonde it shines white, green eyes. About five feet and seven inches, last recorded weighing in about one-hundred and twenty-five pounds. No known affinity, as of yet," the High-Priestess said, smirking in triumph. Professor Hart

'hmphed' in disdain and led the woman into the stables.

The smell hit her like a wall. The strong, musty scent of drying blood made her nose tingle, and the gunky smog of rotted flesh made her gag. Definitely not the same as the ambrosial tang that human blood possessed or even the savory taste of a super-rare steak. Some animal bloods just tasted better than others, but none of them compared to that of a human. Pandora quickly realized that horse blood was on the list of bloods that _weren't _pleasant. Especially if it was dried. Wait a second...

"Why is it dried?" the High-Priestess wondered aloud, frowning suspiciously at Professor Hart.

Crossing her arms, Professor Hart huffed indignantly, "It took a while before Rayana was able to get to me. Her hand was injured from over exerting herself in a sparring match, so she had to sit out this class period. She told me that she heard a noise, went to see what it was, and found poor Patches here like this. Unfortunately, I was quite far from the stables, teaching the students how to safely cross streams."

"_The nearest stream is nearly four and a half miles from here," _Pandora reasoned. Adding that with what she knew of bodily fluids, she deemed the Professor's stories plausible. Nodding her head to let the teacher know she believed her, she stepped closer to the shredded body.

"_It died quickly," _she realized. _"A bite clean bite to the perinium, and it bled out. Another on the neck, which could very well be broken." _Green eyes trailed the length of the horse's body as she shared her findings with Professor Hart, who seemed relieved to hear her horse hadn't suffered much.

Pandora's eyes narrowed when she saw how the side was ripped opened, but she couldn't clearly see inside. Without thinking, she reached over jello-like gobs of flesh and fat and grabbed the flab of skin that was blocking her view. Quickly, exerting a bit of her vampyre strength, she tore the flesh out of her way. A wave of nausea hit her as trapped air was able to flow out of the body. She shivered at the sight before her and she thought she heard Professor Hart gag.

"The heart was the first to go,"she concluded. Not a trace of it was left behind. "The liver, lungs, and stomach lining was next. I'm not quite sure of the exact order, but they definitely came after the heart. See how the remains are scratched up here? Whatever did this was aiming for the heart first."

Professor Hart nodded, her hands covering her mouth in a mix of horror and an attempt to block out the rancid smell. Rearranging more lumps of flesh and organs, Pandora stopped when she found her proof. "See the scratches in the fat and muscle here around the kidneys and spleen? These were eaten only after they were exposed. I highly doubt that if this piece of flesh here hadn't been accidentally sliced opened while trying to get to the stomach, the kidneys and spleen wouldn't have been touched," she explained to a pale Professor Hart. She couldn't blame her, this was _gruesome. _

"What could have done this?" Professor Hart whispered hoarsely. For a moment, Pandora felt a stab of pity for the older woman.

She answered in a gentle voice, "I have a few ideas, but I can't be entirely sure without any hard proof. But I do believe that whatever did this, didn't act alone. I estimate that there had to have been four, maybe less."

Although there were several things that weren't adding up, like the fact that this had happened in a single stall. Yes, the horses were spoiled rotten by Professor Hart and had fairly large stalls, but this kind of an attack required more space. "Come, my friend. I'll have the men deal with this and we will pray for him at the next Full Moon Ritual, yes?" The older vampyre didn't protest when Pandora wrapped her clean arm around her shoulders. In fact, she seemed too shaken to even notice they were leaving. All the grieving teacher did was nod in agreement.

"Please, Edna, I need you to tell me where I can find Rayana. She may be able to help me find whatever did this," the black-haired woman reasoned, hoping that using the woman's real name would get her attention.

It worked. Dull brown eyes met electric green. Her voice thick with emotions, Edna Hart answered, "She w-was a little upset, so I told her t-to go to her r-room. Until she c-calmed down. Oh Goddess, whatever attacked my horse isn't _human_!"

Pandora tightened her arm around the brunette's shoulders, wishing for a towel so she could clean her other hand. Hugs kind of lost their comfort factor when you spread blood on the other person...

"Shhh, it's okay Edna. Go to the staff housing unit and make yourself a nice cup of tea. I have a special blend that I keep hidden from the other teachers in my room, okay? It's in the Roman vase on my desk, the one near the window? Get yourself in bed, with plenty of blankets, and I'll see about getting Ilara to cook up some of her special sugar dumplings, okay?" Pandora suggested. Seeing the shorter woman nod, Pandora gave her a one-armed hug before letting the woman go.

She watched with sympathetic eyes as Professor Hart shuffled towards the faculty house before she ducked into the kitchen and washed her hands. True, the older woman didn't like her because she was too young and inexperienced, but that didn't mean Pandora returned those feelings. Yes, she thought the brown-haired vampyre was annoying at times, but she never felt any contempt towards her. Besides, even Professor Hart couldn't deny that while she _was _young and inexperienced, she was the best at deciphering things. Particularly, dead bodies. Whenever there was a death on campus (and occasionally off), Pandora was always called in to figure the how, the why, and more importantly, the who. She was quite good at finding the smallest detail, increasing the probability of solving the crime.

"_Today was both different, and the same,"_ she thought as she strode towards the students dormitories.

Yes, she had seen the tiniest details that helped her piece together important facts, but this time the facts weren't making sense. No animal could tear a horse to pieces like that in such a confined space without leaving marks on the wall. But there had been nothing there. It was as if the horse had just spontaneously been ripped apart by an invisible force. The gears in her head were already turning. She knew of a few things that _could _do such a thing, but it _couldn't _be that. Several other theories bounced around in her head, taunting her with the fact that the answer was at her fingertips, yet was just barely evading her.

"Merry meet, High-Priestess!"

"Merry meet," she mimicked to several students that had passed her. Lifting her head up high and straightening her shoulders, Pandora switched from amateur detective to High-Priestess as she entered the student lounge. Several girls stared at her in awe, startled by the fact that the _High-Priestess _was _in their lounge_. Weird.

She nodded in acknowledgment to the students before proceeding upstairs without another word. She knew who lived in each room, on account she had assigned these rooms to the students. Stopping at the third door from the end of the hall, Pandora knocked three times on the wooden surface. She waited a full minute before the dark door cracked opened, revealing a sliver of a pale face. Green eyes widened in recognition (and a little fear) and the door swung open to reveal a tall girl in skinny jeans and a white tank top. Her long hair was swept up into an elegant ponytail, suggesting she had pulled it back before laying down.

"M-merry meet, High-Priestess!" she stumbled, trying her best to sound professional. A nervous smile played on her lips.

Pandora smiled warmly in a reassuring manner before replying, "Merry meet, Rayana. I'm here to talk to you about this evening." The small, nervous smile slipped from the girl's face the second the words were spoke. A haunted look encased her eyes in an emotionless icy coffin, her voice becoming deep and monotonous.

"Of course, High-Priestess, whatever you need to know. Please, come in." Rayana stepped back to allow Pandora access to the room.

Average size, two beds, one messy where as one was neatly made. Posters tacked randomly on one side, calendars and schedules posted professionally on the other. Both sides were occupied by wooden desks, both of which held different colored laptops. The theme of one side messy, the other side organized continued everywhere Pandora looked. She raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow as Rayana shoved books and folders off a chair and positioned it in front of her bed, where a spot had already been cleared. The blonde plopped herself down on her bed in the same moment Pandora gracefully accepted the cleared chair.

"_She's scared, but she'd trying to cover it up," _Pandora thought, taking in the girl's carefully done make-up and neat clothes. Her guise would have worked, but the way her eyes shifted at every dark corner, and how any abrupt sound made her flinch. And the trembling hands...

"Can you tell me what happened?" Pandora asked quietly. The High-Priestess was startled when green eyes widened and porcelain skin paled.

"It wasn't me! I had nothing to do with Patches dying!" she shouted, standing in front of the woman. "I swear, I didn't do anything! I wouldn't– _couldn't_! I'd _never _do something like that! Everyone _loved _Patches an-and _it wasn't me_–"

"Rayana." Pandora's voice cut through panic like a knife. She stood and grabbed the frightened teen's hand, hoping to reassure the Fledgling. "It's okay, Rayana. I know you didn't do it. I'm here to listen to what you heard, so I can find out what did do this. I know this isn't your fault, you're not in any trouble. I just want to talk," she consoled, easing them both back into their seats.

Rayana nodded, more so to calm herself down, and said, "I was sitting out on Equestrian Studies today since I hurt my hand and I wouldn't be able to control my horse through the stream without both hands. Anyways, I was sitting on a bench near the stable, you know the one, right?" Seeing the High-Priestess nod, she continued. "I was listening to music, but I still heard it. It was...horrible. It sounded like an animal that tried crying out in pain, but the air was stolen from its throat. I-I got curious and..." She swallowed heavily, finishing in a whisper. "I checked the stalls and found Patches just...torn apart."

Pandora didn't notice the girl shiver; she was too busy trying to pull her facts together. It all made sense, except it _didn't_. She knew the creatures that could do such a thing, but they would _never _do something like this unless...

"_It _is _difficult to control teenagers," _Pandora reasoned. Turning her attention back on the scared teenager, she placed her hand on the lithe shoulder and smiled gently.

"Thank you for your help, Rayana, it's really appreciated. If you wish, you may skip classes tomorrow to get your nerves settled. You don't have to, but I think that everyone will understand if you do," she offered.

Rayana's face was blank with shock before scrunching up in concentration. After a few moments, she decided, "I think I'm okay to go to class." She gave a small smile before quickly finishing," but thanks for the offer, High-Priestess Pandora!"

Pandora stood with a smile and nodded her goodbye. She quickly left, her head swirling with questions, facts, and answers. Her smile curved down into a frown once she realized she wouldn't be able to do anything but think until Friday, after she talked to that kid about his father. Saturday was the Full-Moon Ritual and she'd have to get the Poet Laureate to come up with calming poem to reassure everyone not to panic. Tomorrow _–_Thursday_– _she had to deal with that Senator's kid. At least he was expected to be here around two in the morning, and not while the sun was still up. She _hated_ when they came while the sun was up; it was _annoying_. Taking a deep breath, Pandora calmed herself before walking into her room. Time to see how Professor Hart was holding up, and maybe get a good cup of tea.

–

Rayana stared dumbly at her door, pillow clutched to her chest. Only minutes ago had the High-Priestess left, leaving a shaken Rayana to her thoughts. Well, at least she's not in trouble. But that wasn't what scared her. No, what had frightened her wasn't the gory sight of Patches's dead body, but that fact that there was something on campus, and the adult vampyres didn't know what it _was_? _That _sent chills down her spine. She knew that Pandora was trying to be discreet about it, but she could still see the worry in her tired eyes. That was what made Rayana decide not to tell anyone about what she knew. Well, unless they were adult vamps, of course.

"_Maybe I could tell Damien, too?" _she wondered, but she quickly discarded that thought. Damien had a newbie following him around, and they might overhear something. _"Argh! I hate this! I wish he wasn't stuck playing babysitter for some loser!" _

"You know what? Screw it! I'm going to go hang out with him whether I like it or not! I'm bored!" she announced to herself.

So, first things first. Hunt down Damien and his shadow. Hell, maybe while she was at it, she'd find Nin. It's been awhile since she seen her cat, after all. Next was to ground Damien's ego into the ground by beating him at a contest or something. She didn't quite know what they were suppose to do, but she'd cross that bridge when she got to it. She stepped out into the hall and leaned against her closed door, thinking.

"_If I were him, I'd be near the rec hall by now..." _

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Anyways, this was to show that Pandora isn't really a good High-Priestess. She's not horrible, but she's not that great either. She's actually a mediocre High-Priestess, due to her affinity being so uncontrollable. Not evil, just a mediocre High-Priestess, who isn't loved by everyone. **

**A bit of fore-shadowing, and I touched a bit more on Rayana. **

**...I've been paying too much attention in Spanish. I kept wanting to write Professora Hart. XD**

**Could still use a few more characters. Mostly teachers. Lots and lots of teachers. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sooo, yeah. Been awhile, hasn't it? If any of my original followers are reading this, I am sorry. I haven't updated in a very long time, and it's unacceptable. The reasons for my absence are as followed: **

**-Due to a bout of depression, I had no desire or inspiration to write. **

**-Actually having a life has kept me busy. **

**-Most importantly, I have outgrown the House of Night series. One day, I had realized just how much I disliked the story and how juvenile it seemed. I no longer have any desire to read the series, and quite frankly I've given up on it. **

**However, I won't be giving up on this story. I won't be reading the series, so I won't have any knowledge of what actually happens. So from here on out, treat this story as a full-fledged AU. I will be making up my own "cannon" details or I will simply glossed over them. **

**Now for the good news. I was like fourteen when I first started writing this story. I'm now sixteen going on seventeen and in college English classes. Which means my writing skills have improved, or at least I like to think so. So hopefully from here on out, I will be able to give you a better quality story. Hopefully I will be able to get back my original readers who have submitted OCs.**

* * *

Okay, it was probably a good thing she wasn't him then. Rayana had gone to the rec hall, only to find it empty of any Damiens. Well, maybe there were a few, but they were all little third formers.

Shaking her head and chuckling silently to herself she thought, _"He's just sooo original. It's not like anyone _else_ would chose their name to be Damien or anything like that." _

With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she left the rec room, leaving several new feldgings confused by her actions. Maybe random laughing was just part of becoming a vampire? They shrugged to each other. Hell if they knew.

Crossing her arms in front of her, Rayana shuffled down the hall, trying to think of where her lost rival may be. _"He did always like fencing," _she thought. She paused mid-step in the hallway and scrunched her face up in disgust. It was just downright _weird _that she knew so much about him already. They've only known each other for like, four months. She looked down at the floor and began walking again, her face blank of any emotion. They've known each other for a long time now, longer than she's known any of her "friends" from her old high school.

Was it possible that he was worming his way past her walls and becoming her friend? Rayana glared sharply at the floor as she kept walking. No. The last time she had "friends" they turned on her. She should have been able to trust them, but she couldn't. No! She was _not _going to blindly trust again! Not again! Not after what _they _tried doing! The ones she trusted the most! Her—

"Ooof!" Rayana shouted, as she fell to the ground. She had been so lost in her own head that she had not seen the tall figure coming her way. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, and she knew they weren't from the fall. She angrily wiped them away and hastily stood to her feet. Standing up straight, Rayana looked to the person she had bumped into and wished she hadn't.

The boy looked like death. Well, maybe man-beast was a more fitting description. The guy was tall and well-built, rivaling even Damien's muscularity. Greasy dyed-black hair hung down to his shoulders and in his eyes, which were angrily fixed on Rayana.

Quickly, she said, "I'm really sorry about that, I wasn't looking—"

"Damn right you better be sorry. What kind of dumbfuck stares at the floor when they walk? Grow a fucking brain, you dumbshit," the boy growled, shoving passed Rayana.

Rayana stood frozen for a second, mouth hanging open in shock. Did that really just happen? _Really?!_ She spun around, her blonde hair fanning out like white fire. "Excuse me?" she said in a calm voice.

The rude man-beast turned around, cocking his head back, as if she were simply an ant he was amusing.

"I don't know if you know this, but generally when one apologizes, they are allowed to finish," she continued.

A wicked grin oozed onto the man-beast's face. "Well baby, come see me tonight and I'll make damn sure you finish."

Ignoring the innuendo, Rayana said, "But now I see my mistake. Animals like you don't deserve apologies. No, greasy slimeballs like you only deserve to be beaten or locked away in a cage. You're nothing but filth, you know that, don't you? So why don't you run along and take a shower. A cloud of grease and filth simply surrounds you, and it's disgusting."

As she talked, the man-beast's face contorted into a vicious glare, and his face grew red. In a low, dangerous voice he said, "You shut the fuck up, bitch, before I make you."

"What? Was I speaking too fast for you to comprehend? Oh no! I used a big word! I didn't hurt your brain, did I?" she retorted, using a voice filled with fake concern.

His face turned a shade redder, his fist clenched at his sides. Picking up on this, Rayana went in for the kill. "Oooh, hit a nerve there, did I? Poooooor baaabyy," she said, using her most irritating baby-talk. Her eyes turned into slits are she glared at the tall boy before her. "Get lost, loser. You're nothing and you know it. You shouldn't even_ be_ here. You should just go back home to mommy and daddy and stop pretending your life is so hard. Those black clothes and 'scary' chains are _screaming _'poser, you—"

"Enough!" the boy shouted, slamming his fist into the wall right next to Rayana's head. She didn't even blink, but just stared coolly into his eyes.

Bright green eyes pierced angry brown, and in a low, even voice, Rayana said, "Do it. See what happens."

Feeling challenged, the man-beast ripped his fist away from the wall, leaving a decent sized indent. Breathing deeply, he cocked his arm back, and Rayana briefly wondered if she miscalculated. Most boys would never hit a girl! It's been hammered into their brains since childhood! And yet there was his fist, being cocked back to his ear, and his face that read all too well what he was planning on doing. Rayana gasped and slammed her eyes shut, tensing up, waiting for the hit to come. But it didn't. She waited one second. Then two. At three, she opened her eyes and felt her jaw drop. There was Damien, standing behind the guy, left palm cupping the back of the man-beast's head, while the other wrapped around the front of the jerk's throat to grip his own forearm.

"Beating up on girls now, Solus?" Damien grunted, tightening his grip on the slimly man-beast. Rayana stared in shock as the two fought for dominance over one another.

Solus grunted as his tried prying Damien's grip apart so he could get free. It was no use, for Damien was stronger. _"But not smarter!"_ Solus thought, as he tightened his grip on Damien's arms. Preparing for him to try and pry his arms apart, Damien slightly bent his legs and tensed his muscles. Instead, Solus jumped up, slammed the bottom of his shoes into the wall he was facing, and_ pushed._

"Damien!" Rayana shouted as her rival was thrown off balance and landed on his back, Solus still in his grip. _"Dammit, where the hell are the teachers?! Aren't they suppose to know when stuff like this happens," _Rayana thought desperately, feeling helpless.

Determined to break free, Solus slammed his elbow into Damien's stomach with a meaty thump. He did this repeatedly until, with a gasp, Damien released him. Both rolled quickly to their feet, fist clenched and at the ready. Damien moved first, but was stopped when a slim figure slammed into him.

"Stop it! Just stop it! He's not worth it, dammit!" Rayana shouted, trying the pull Damien's arm down to his side. "Please, let's just go. Please."

At the word 'please', Damien's eyes locked with hers, and he saw the fear that was held there. Fear? For him, or of him? Staring into those chips of ember ice, Damien felt himself calm. With a nod of his head, he put a hand on her shoulder and led her away. But he wasn't done yet. He tossed a deadly glare over his shoulder, and Solus returned it. This would be settled later. But for now, he lead Rayana through a series of halls, his heart skipping a beat whenever they saw a teacher. But they seemed none the wiser, which was weird. Weird, but if it kept him out of trouble, he didn't care. Damien continued to lead Rayana until they were outside and alone enough for them to talk. The old oil lamps emitted a soft orange light, casting an otherworldly glow on Rayana. Her bright hair shone in the dim light and her eyes glistened. From where Rayana stood, the light behind Damien blotted out his features, turning him into an ominous figure.

Rayana cast her eyes down as Damien took a deep, calming breath. Here…we…go…

"What the _hell _were you thinking?! That guy would have destroyed you! He has no right or wrong morals! All he cares about is getting even! What the hell?! Did you think that just because you're a girl that you'll be safe? Not with Luther! That guy will mess up anyone he chooses! How could you be so stupid?"

"Hey, I didn't _ask _for you to save me. You know pretty damn well that I can handle myself. I had everything under control," she growled, keeping her voice even. Inside, her heart was still frantically beating. She _had _lost control of the situation, but she'd never admit to him. _Never. _

"Not with that freak! Rayana," Oh, _why _did she get goosebumps whenever he said her name? "There are rumors that he's killed people. And that's just the guys. You don't _want _to know about what he does to the girls."

At those words, chills ran up and down her spine. What she had thought was just a stupid sexual innuendo suddenly took on a much darker tone. She could usually handle herself in a fight if she was quicker, but against pure strength like Luther Solus's? It hurt to admit it, but she didn't think she'd be able to keep herself safe.

Sighing, Damien gathered her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. _"The perfect size," _he briefly thought before saying, "I won't always be around to protect you."

Why was it suddenly so hard to speak? Why did his confession hurt a little? Clearing the emotions that had lodged themselves in her throat, Rayana pulled away from his embrace and said, "I know. I'm sorry for my actions."

Damien stared at her for several seconds, his shoulders sagging when he realized that she was falling behind that emotionless mask of hers. _"One day…" _his thought wistfully.

"Uh, hey Damien, umm, I'm not interrupting, am I?" Two sets of green eyes glowed in the dim lighting as Dax nervously shifted his gaze between the two. Startled, the two backed even further away from each other. Rayana protectively crossed her arms in front of her and turned towards Dax, trying to make out the growling shape in his arms.

"Nah, Twigs, you're cool. What's up?" Damien drawled, stretching his arms above his head. Restraining Luther had been harder than he'd like to admit.

"Oh, um, I found your cat, Nin," Dax said, lifting a fluffy black mass that contrasted greatly with his white jacket. At the sight of Damien, Nin hissed and swatted at him, accidentally scratching Dax's exposed arm. To his credit, he only cringed before petting Nin behind the ear. She purred happily as she nuzzled into his hand. He smiled down at the little cat and held her tighter to his body. When he looked back up, he was met with a jaw-dropped Damien and a brow-raised Rayana. "What?" he asked innocently.

"How?! That cat hates _everyone_!" Damien spluttered.

With a slight grin, Rayana commented, "Or maybe she just hates _you_."

She ignored the glare she was receiving from Damien and smoothly moved in front of Dax. "Here kitty, kitty," she said. Without a thought, the dark cat jumped into her pale, outstretched arms and burrowed its head against her neck. "Nin is my cat, and thank you for finding her. I'm also sorry about the injuries you may have gotten while trying to capture her," she said, gesturing to the thin red lines on his arm. It was hard to see in the light, but it looked like there were quite a few of them.

Dax gasped at the mention of the cuts and nervously looked down at them. As he pulled down the sleeves of his white jacket he said, "Heh, yeah, you're welcome. It was no problem, really. These? These aren't anything, really. I've had worse."

As their faces melted into concern, he corrected himself, "No! Not like that! Heh, what I mean is that I'm always falling over and getting hurt on accident and stuff. Like today, before I got here, on the way here, I mean, I fell out of the back of our truc—"

"I'm sorry, Dack, I'd love to hear the rest of this story, but I really need to get going. I haven't seen Nin in ages and I better give her a bath and flea treatment." Looking to Damien, she said, "I'll see you later."

Neither one would admit it if asked, but they both stared as she walked away. Damien broke his gaze away first and looked at Dax. "Hey, Twigs, you're drooling, dude."

Startled, Dax jumped and flushed red. When he thought Damien wasn't looking, he used the back of his hand to wipe up any stray drool that may have escaped his mouth. Damien laughed at the younger boy and clapped him on the shoulder. It shouldn't have been possible, but Dax's face turned an even deeper color red, the tips of his ears nearly glowing.

Still chuckling, Damien said, "Come on man, I've still gotta show you the rest of the campus."

Meaty hand still on the younger boy's shoulder, Damien steered him in the direction of the boy dormitories. The two walked the winding path, Damien eventually dropping his hand from the skinny boy's shoulder when they got closer to the dorms. A square brick building stood sandwiched between two tall towers. Each tower was adorned with many windows, some glowing a bright yellow, others pitch black.

Pointing at the middle building, Damien explained, "That's where the kitchen, laundry room, and even our own rec room are. The towers are the actual dorm rooms. Mine is waaay up there at the top. Well, it's ours now, I guess."

"We have our own rec room?" Dax asked as Damien began to lead them into the square building.

"Yeah, each gender gets their own little living room with a TV and books, but there's also the main rec room across the hall from the cafeteria. I'll show that to you next, seeing as it's almost dinner time," Damien answered.

He walked into the rec room, Dax following close behind, and waved to the few boys that were gathered around the TV and gaming system. They exchanged a few hellos before Damien pulled Dax in front of him and said, "Guys, this is Dax Logan, one of the new kids. He's pretty alright, so try not to be total douches to him, alright?"

Most of the boys threw out a simple greeting before going back to their video games. The one with spiky blonde hair, however, said, "Hey man, what'd you do to Luther? He came in here all pissy and stuff."

Interested, the other boys paused their game to listen. With a shrug, Damien told them, "It was nothing. He decided he wanted to be a fucking douche, so I decided to be a bigger douche back. Easy as that."

Satisfied, the other boys went back to their game. Frowning, the muscular blonde said, "Can't you two just play nice? I mean, come on dude. You're not the one who has to share a room with the guy. Whenever he's pissed off, he falls asleep to Metallica. As loud as he can have it. That's means I get _no _sleep, and waking up to go to the gym becomes hell on earth."

"DJ, when the dick tries punching one of my chick friends in the face, I'm not gonna let him just walk away," Damien growled, stalking upstairs and leaving behind the shocked faces. Dax stared at the retreating form of his tour guide, then back at the group of shocked boys, not knowing what to do. He was saved when Damien called out to him, "Twigs, get your ass up here."

Smiling nervously, Dax waved his goodbye and scrambled up the stairs, glad to be out of there. Damien was waiting for him at the top of the first flight, still burning with anger. He visibly calmed himself with three long breathes before saying, "Hey sorry about that. It's just that Solus pissed me off so much, even the mention of his first name is enough to get my blood boiling. But hey, I promise I'm not some freak with anger management problems, alright?" At Dax's nod, he continued, "Alright then. Glad we got that settled. Now come on, I wanna show you to the room before dinner is announced."

Dax silently followed Damien up numerous flights of stairs, getting nervous when the spiral staircase narrowed and the walls began to close in on him. Noticing his breathing, Damien turned around and studied him. Was he really out of breath already? The kid had looked pretty healthy. He figured that a simple staircase would be no match for the little stick. But as he looked closer, Damien noticed how pale Dax had gotten, and how his eyes flickered all around. As realization dawned on him, Damien turned and ran up the remaining six flights of stairs, Dax only seconds behind him.

When they reached the top, both were breathing heavily, Damien from the run and Dax from his near panic attack. Dax leaned against the hall wall and slowly sunk down to sit. He sat with his head down, hands in his black hair, and his elbows on his knees. He sat like that, with Damien curiously watching, until his breathing evened out. Ever so slowly he looked up at his roommate, searching for any sign of rejection. Sensing that he was being tested, Damien forced a smile and shrugged. "_That? That was nothing. Don't worry, I __won't leave you," _his body language said.

Dax returned the gesture with a shaky smile of his own and went back to his breathing. Damien stood awkwardly in the hall, looking everywhere but at the kid on the floor. Yeah, he was concerned, but stuff like this seemed personal and he felt like he was intruding on a private moment. So he stood, looking everywhere but at Dax, listening to his breathing. When he finally heard it even out, he looked back to the blue-eyed boy. Dax looked back up at the black-haired fourth former and smile sheepishly.

"Heh, sorry about that. I um, I get claustrophobic and I don't do well in enclosed areas, and the stairs..."

Looking over his shoulder, back at the stairs, Damien said, "Yeah, I think I get what you mean. They can get a little squishy, especially when there's someone else walking with you." Turning his attention back to Dax, he said, "You cool now?"

At his nod, Damien offered the younger boy his hand. Dax clapped his hand into Damien's and with a mighty tug, was pulled to his feet. Starting down the small hall, Damien said, "Come on man, I'll show you to our room."

Dax trailed quietly after his tour guide, noticing that there were only two other doors in the oval room. "Wh-who else, uh, lives on this floor?" Dax asked, limply gesturing towards the doors.

Damien paused to glance at the other doors and answered, "DJ and Luther Solus are in one room, and Mouse has the other one all to himself at the moment."

Dax continued to stare at the other doors while Damien fiddled with the door that lead into their room. "Uh, Mouse?" Dax asked.

"Fucking door" Damien mumbled under breath, nearly jiggling the door off its hinges. He answered Dax's question with, "Uh, yeah, his real name is Todd Rodriguez or something like that. But everyone just calls him Mouse 'cause he's all little and quiet like one. But damn, can that kid sneak into anywhere. Rumor has it he was even able to sneak into a girl's dorm room."

Dax's eyebrows perked up. "Really? I thought the vampyre teachers were suppose to have some sort of spidey sense or something?"

Damien paused, slowly turned to look at Dax, and _stared. _Slowly, a smile crept across his face and he chuckled. "Fucking spidey sense!? That's a good one, Twigs. Maybe there's hope for you yet."

Dax smiled proudly, glad to have made him only friend laugh. Then the meaning of Damien's statement sunk in. "Hey!" he shouted indignantly, a laugh in his voice.

Still snickering, Damien went back to trying to open the door. Finally getting fed up, he slammed his entire left side against it. But still, the door stood proudly intact, as if taunting the large boy. Damien growled a series of swear words under his breath that made Dax blush. Clearing his throat, the thin teen asked, "Um, can I try?"

Damien looked him up and down before letting out a half-scoff/half-chuckle. "Be my guest, Twigs," he said, side-stepping to allow him access to the door.

Dax studied it for several seconds. What could be the problem? It's a door, and doors are _suppose to _open, right? Another few seconds went by, and—wait. That there. Right there. It couldn't be, could it?

"Damien, do you have a key for this door or something?" he asked, staring at the small circular spiral. He had barely seen it because of the shimmery silver paint, but the swirl went deep into the wood, as if it was all a keyhole.

Damien stared at the swirl for a few seconds before shouting, "Holy crap, am I really that fucking retarded?!" Laughing at himself, he dug into his pocket before pulling out a metal swirl on a chain. "I totally thought that it was just a necklace, but it's not. Watch this," he said, aligning the swirls. He gently pushed the key into the lock and watched as the key disappeared. They heard a few light clicks before the door unlocked.

Shocked, Dax said, "Th-that was really cool! But why are there locks on the doors?"

Damien shrugged. "I dunno, they're like brand new. Usually the teachers just _know _when stuff happens. Y'know, spidey sense?" Damien laughed and clapped Dax on the back, steering him into the room. "Maybe it's because there's so many of us?"

Dax nodded at the probable explanation before freezing. It was all here. All of it. Everything that was in his room, everything he thought he had left behind, was now staring at him. "That's really creepy," he commented, picking up a small ceramic piggy bank. Him and his grandma had painted it together… At the memory of his grandmother, Dax pointed his eyes at the floor, crossed the room, and plopped down on the clean bed. He was quiet for a few moments, simply sitting on the bed, with Damien watching him. Sometimes new kids couldn't handle being away from their parents and needed a teacher to come and talk some sense into them. Damien waited to see if Dax was the kind that needed to be sedated or not.

Finally, after a lifetime, Dax asked very quietly, "Does it get easier?"

Oh god, did he know how that felt. To have the people you loved ripped away from you, never to see them again? And if you do, you're not going to be the same person that they once knew. Taking a deep breath, he answered, "With time it gets to be a little more bearable."

Dax nodded, his shagging hair falling into his bright eyes. An awkward silence fell upon the two as both avoided each other's eyes. Damien's eyes fell upon a black sweater that was lying on the back of his computer chair. He picked it up and held it put so Dax could see.

At the confused look in his eyes, Damien explained, "This is the school uniform. You're supposed to wear it to class and stuff, but other than that you can wear your own clothes. As long as the teachers and other students can see what former you are in, it's all good. See this here? This is your third former symbol." He moved his arm and pointed to the silver embroiding on his chest, "Mine is the symbol of a fourth former. They're kinda like classes. Freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior, y'know?"

Dax nodded his head in understanding. Damien continued, "But yeah, if you're not digging the long-sleeves, they got sweater vests and I think even now they have just a plain t-shirt that comes in a bunch of colors. I dunno, you'd had to check out the student store."

Dax nodded and accepted the shirt. He looked at the shirt, then to Damien, blushing. Damien was able to translate what Dax's problem was and grunted in surprise. Dax smiled sheepishly at him and Damien simply shrugged and turned his back. Gratefully, Dax quickly stripped himself of his jacket and shirt and put on the black shirt. It was soft and warm and most importantly, it had long-sleeves. Dax cleared his throat, signifying that it was okay for Damien to turn around. Damien did so, and had to keep himself from giggling. Dax was almost drowning in the shirt since he was so god damn skinny. But hell, the kid looked comfortable in it, so he wasn't going to say anything. A shrill beeping broke his attention from his new roommate to his watch, and he smiled, saying, "Let's go Twigs. It's dinnertime and we gotta go quick before all the new kids storm the place."

Grinning, Dax let himself be lead out of the dorms, fiddling with the sleeves of his new shirt. This wasn't so bad, not really. As long as he remembered to breathe and take baby steps, he could handle this. He could handle turning into a vampyre.


	6. Chapter 6

**Change of setting for all those that can handle it. This piece was written long before my two year absence, but I liked it so much I had to include it. **

**Decision time, people. Do you want longer (4 ½ thousand word) chapters that take a long time to post, or shorter ones (2 thousand words) that I will ****try**** to get up every two weeks?**

The crisp morning silence was quickly mutilated by the sound of glass shattering, which was followed by angry, foreign shouts. The indistinct hollers escalated as the screen door of the undesirable trailer swung opened and a lean teenaged girl stormed out, muttering Italian obscenities under her breath. She fumbled with her worn, gray backpack, pulling out a black jacket. Without pausing, she slipped the jacket on over her loose tank top, lifting the hood up to shield shower-wet, black hair from the early morning fog.

Turning the corner that led to the main street, the girl furiously blinked back tears. She was _not _going to cry, not today.

But damn it, it was so _unfair_!

"_Mother is getting worse, William has gotten fired, and my brother is getting more ill with each passing day. It will only be a matter of time before we get evicted and I can't get any more shifts at work, not without endangering my health," _she thought darkly.

Not like her health wasn't already in danger, getting only a few hours of precious sleep and with limited food... She knew she was too lean to be healthy; she knew by how bony she was. But she could endure, she was sixteen. Her body had developed enough so that she could survive adulthood, if only barely. But her brother, he was in trouble. Being a six year-old, he needed more of everything to ensure he grew up big and strong. More sleep, more food, more attention and that all tied to more money. Something they definitely didn't have. She pulled her jacket closer to her slender body, hoping to deflect the morning chill.

"_William is trying, he really is, but Mother..." _she shivered. Whether from anger or genuine cold, she couldn't tell. Her step-father, William, was trying to keep her family together, but her mother's addiction made that goal damn near impossible.

"_If she doesn't get better, if we can't pay rent, they'll...they'll take Michael away."_

Just the thought of losing her brother caused a new wave of tears to sting her eyes, which she stubbornly scrubbed away. No time for tears, not now, not ever. She needed to be strong, for her family. Taking a deep, calming breath, the black-haired teen rounded another corner as she shoved her worries into a box to bury deep inside herself.

"_Keep going. They need you. I can cut school an hour early, and talk to Ms. Lombardi about walking her dogs for that hour..."_

Deep in her thoughts, she didn't notice the person coming towards her until he turned on his heel and began walking by her side. Glancing up, her eyes met smirking dark-brown, and then looked away. Mouth turned down in a slight frown, the boy nudged her shoulder with his own. Biting her lip, the girl turned to meet his gaze, and this time held it.

His carefully guarded dark eyes flickered with calculation, searching the brown eyes that seemed almost silver in the morning fog. After a few tense moments, the boy sighed through his nose and placed his arm around her shoulders.

"Rosso, tell me."

Even half-expecting it, the girl still flinched at hearing the eerily calm voice. She swallowed dryly, took a moment to recover, and look straight into brown eyes, "It is not your problem, Kyle, but mine."

"Yeah, and normally, I wouldn't ask." Kyle's eyes narrowed into a sharp glare. "But that's not the case today," he said coolly.

Rosso returned the glare just as sharply, her intense gaze only interrupted by clumps of wet hair. "It's _nothing_," she growled.

"Nothingdoesn't make you cry or run you out of your house while you're in the middle of a shower. So, what happened? What did _she _do?" he hissed. At her expression of utter shock, he snorted. "Did you think I couldn't smell the conditioner in your hair, or feel how cold you are?"

Rosso couldn't hold back the shiver that ran down her spine. It was always creepy whenever he did that. But then again, that was one of the things that made them such good friends. He could pick up on the tiniest thing and correctly deduce what was going on with her, and she was cunning enough to get him to be a bit more open. But, usually, neither had to actually _talk, _allowing them to stay true to their withdrawn selves. Usually. There were times like these when Kyle would pick up on something, and try to get her to talk about it before it ate her from the inside out.

Eyes downcast, she sighed in reluctant defeat. "She yelled at him, started punching him, and he just _stood there and took it! _I was in the shower, but when I heard Michael start to cry, I rushed out. I saw William all bruised up and yelled at her. She started yelling at me, telling me-" she swallowed the lump in her throat as she leaned in closer to her friend. "She said a lot of stuff. Started demanding more money, for all she does for us. I-I told her no, and she threw a lamp at me. I ran out," her voice calm and collected, but knuckles white with fury. Slowly, she unclenched her hand, and added as an afterthought, "I hope William was able to get Michael to school on time."

Kyle growled under his breath and stopped, jerking her to a halt as well. Not waiting a second, his tucked Rosso's head under his chin and held her. God, she was so cold. He could feel her thin body shaking, but he had a suspicion that it wasn't just from the cold. Still, in an effort to keep her warm, he began moving his hands up and down her arms. He frowned when he realized that his pitiful attempt at keeping her warm wasn't working. He paused for a moment, and then hesitantly unzipped his jacket. This was probably too forward, and she was going to reject him, but he could still try.

At the sound of the zipper, Rosso looked up at him and asked, "Wha—"

"You are freezing," he interrupted. He gently pushed her against his body and zipped his jacket around the both of them. Rosso tensed at first, but as warmth started to fill her body, she relaxed. Kyle held his breath until he felt her strict posture ease, worried she may reject him.

Once he felt the time was right, he said, "Michael's not your child. You are his sister. Yes, as his sister you have some responsibility, but he... Is... _Not_… Your... Child. William may not have known what he was getting into when he married your bitch of a mother, but he fucking knows it now and he still hasn't ran off." Feeling her breathing deeply to keep control of her emotions, Kyle softened his voice and held her tighter. "William can take care of him. He should be taking care of you too, but he can only do so much."

Rosso gently pushed off his chest so she could look into his dark brown eyes. She smiled sadly and whispered, "That's why I have you, isn't it?"

Kyle stared as her eyes glistened with tears. His heart was pounding in his chest as he leaned forward, his hand on her cheek slowing pulling her towards him. As their faces came closer together, Rosso's eyes fluttered shut. Nearly inches from touching, Kyle whispered," You'll always have me."

Just as his lips brushed hers, a booming voice echoed throughout the empty street. "Rosso Jather! Night has chosen thee!..."

Rosso didn't hear the rest. The man's…no, _vampyre's, _voice faded into the background as panic set in. Her eyes met Kyle's and she could see the same panic there. "No…NO!" Rosso shouted, quickly spinning around and running as fast as she could. She slammed her eyes shut, partially to protect them from the cold wind, but mostly to keep the tears from falling.

Behind her, she heard Kyle yell, "No! You can't have her! You can't—oof!" The sound of a fist connecting with solid flesh was a sound she was use to. Faintly, she heard Kyle moan as he hit the ground. She should have stopped, but she couldn't help it. She ran faster, but it was no use. It was a vampyre tracker she was going up against, so there really wasn't any competition. She could hear his heavy footsteps coming up behind her and she urged herself to go faster. Please, please, please, oh please legs go _faster._ She started sobbing and slowing down after she knew it was hopeless. Suddenly, she dropped to her knees, her small frame shaking with sobs. She looked up, and through the blur of tears, she saw his emotionless face bearing down upon her. He pointed at her and the world was nothing but pain…

Rosso gasped has she was awaken from her slumber, the last of her dream still coursing through her mind. She sat straight up in her bed, blinded by the sudden brightness that being awake brought.

"Hey, it's time for dinner," her blonde roommate said. The perfect little Barbie. The girl who has probably never felt any grief in her pathetic, perfect little life.

"I'm not hungry," Rosso said. She plopped down onto her pillow and pulled the covers over her head all in one fluid movement. "And Reyna? My name is Volpe. Volpe Scarano," she said from under the covers.

"It's Ray-yawn-a," the blonde girl enunciated. "And if you don't eat, then you'll piss off the vamps and they'll kick you out or something."

Volpe violently pulled back her covers and snarled, "Do you really think I give a fuck? I didn't ask for this shit anyways! Just leave me alone!" As she yelled her last words, she tightly pulled the blanket over her head and curled into the fetal position.

Rayana rolled her eyes in disgust and decided she wasn't worth it. She shouldn't even _have _a roommate. She had been gone only for a few hours, long enough to get into trouble with Luther and get save by Damien. When she had come back, there was some skinny black-haired bitch curled up on a bed that had magically made its way into her room. Which was completely ridiculous because she already _had _a roommate! That Willow girl was easy enough to get along with, but this? Three girls in one room? Were the vampyres trying to make them kill each other? Besides, Nin kept her side of the room messy enough, and now they want even more things in here? Although, the new girl's side of the room was painfully bare.

"_Maybe they haven't gotten her stuff from her house yet?" _Rayana thought, turning on her heel and leaving the room. If Miss Mopey wants to stay in the room all night and starve to death, then fine. She wasn't going to have anything to do with it, and if the vampyres try to say otherwise, she'll explain the situation to them. Decided in a plan of action, Rayana walked to the cafeteria, head held high.

**A/N: I know, know, short and unfinished-feeling. **

**Anyone who wants to enter a teacher or even a student can either send it in a review or PM. I still need characters, especially teachers.**


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